


Me and Mrs. Jones

by SydniDawn



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Family Drama, These idiots need a holiday
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:53:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22884328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SydniDawn/pseuds/SydniDawn
Summary: It's tough, being in love, having married different people, raised two separate family, only to finally get back together with as much intensity and affection between each other.It's doubly so when your kids pull you out of bed to tell you your eldest child might have betrayed you.But for FP and Alice, that's just a regular Saturday in Riverdale
Relationships: Alice Cooper/FP Jones II, Archie Andrews/Veronica Lodge, Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones
Comments: 23
Kudos: 41





	1. Ring of Truth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bisexualstevenrogers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bisexualstevenrogers/gifts).



"Any regrets?"

FP spoke more into Alice's hair than anything as she laid half on top of him, head comfortably pillowed on his chest. That was them, always; intensity itself, blurring the line between beauty and chaos. Half the night having acrobatic sex -a few positions of which were glaring reminders they weren’t sixteen years old anymore-, before laying down to cuddle, bodies as intwined as they possibly could. That was who they were, both the hurricane, and the calm afterwards, addicted to each other sexually, and soothed by their physical contact. 

Alice hummed contently, "There is nothing about us that I could ever regret."

She meant it. Lying to him about Charles, yes. But if they'd stayed together, none of their other children would have been born, and she could never regret Polly, Jughead, Betty, or Jellybean. And in the end, everything had worked itself out. She and FP were back together, and better than ever.

FP's face softened, "That’s always nice to hear."

He leaned over, and brushed his lips against hers. As with the night before, they had no interest in being chaste, their mouths drawing open like waves rushing the shore, strong and constant, giving in to the unstoppable pull. FP trailed his hand up past her serpent tattoo to grab her hip, blunt nails gripping the skin in an unanchored grip. He could feel her smirk against him; she pulled back at an agonizing pace, just enough to take his lower lip between her teeth, and bite down. 

Jesus.

Alice always knew his weaknesses; emotional and sexual. She knew how to tease, and rib him, how to drive him crazy, and drive him up the wall. But even at their worst, she would never use it against him; instead she would guide him there, a tether in the storm of life. 

Before she could tease him any further, he hooked his hand around the back of her knee, and pulled her until she straddle his lap.

"Forsythe!" She let out a squeak in surprise.

He growled out a laugh, nudging the sheet down her bare back to pool around their hips. Normally, they were conscientious of the kids filtering in and out of the house. They let their lovemaking take them to new heights, before basking in each other, and forcing themselves to redress long before dawn's light stroked her fingers past the curtains. Alice didn't believe in locking her children out, and neither Jellybean nor Betty, on occasion, seemed to understand the true meaning of a closed door. 

The night before, they hadn't bothered. They wanted to sleep skin to skin; they wanted to tease orgasm after orgasm from one another until sleep overtook them, then wake up to do it again. So they'd hung a tie -Alice's; as if Forsythe Pendleton Jones II owned a tie- on the outside of the door, and called it a night.

That led to a morning where they lay exhausted but elated, relishing in how different everything felt; their fears and insecurities washed away, as they drew from each other’s strength.

"So I was thinking…" Alice tapped her fingers against the tattoo on his chest, "What if I go downstairs, make everyone breakfast, and convince the kids to scatter for the rest of the day. Then we can come back up here, and continue our  _ celebration _ as loudly as we want."

The way she said the word " celebration" accompanied by a tiny roll of her hips had FP damn near losing his mind. It took four deep, rather shaky breaths before he could speak.

"Counter offer. I run down, give them all money for Pop’s, then grab those chocolate-covered strawberries from the fridge on my way back up?"

Alice's chocolate obsession rivalled the most accomplished Jones, but she was rather insistent on working for her treats. Homemade cookies and brownies were always to be found in the house, with the occasional cake or pie if she was in the mood. The afternoon before, FP came home to find her dipping strawberries in chocolate, promising to feed him as many as he could stomach once they'd cooled. That had been the plan, until they’d gotten sidetracked.

Alice hummed happily, "I like yours better."

"Perfect." He sat up, until their chests were flushed together, "Give me fiv-..."

He was interrupted by Alice’s phone ringing, loudly. 

FP flopped right back down on the bed, groaning in annoyance as she leaned over to pluck the offending object off the nightstand.

"It's Betty." Alice did her best to clear some of the annoyance out of her voice as she answered the offending object, "A new murder, a new threat, or a new mystery?"

Even FP could hear Betty pause.

"What?"

Alice Smith, eyeroll queen extraordinaire struck again. "You’re calling me, which means you’re not in the house, and it’s barely nine o’clock on a Saturday morning. So either someone else is dead, someone is being threatened for sticking their nose where it didn’t belong, or you and Jughead are playing Nancy Drew."

"Oh! Um…" Betty's voice was muffled for a moment, as if she was talking to someone else. "We’re sitting somewhere between the last two."

“Wonderful.” Her voice was dripping with sarcasm.

Alice climbed off FP, gesturing apologetically. She wedged her phone between her ear and her shoulder, digging into her underwear drawer for the first pair she could find. She pulled a thong out without a second thought.

“No. Don’t do that to me.” She turned to find FP with his head turned towards her, lust written all over his features, “Don’t put those on, then walk away from me.”

She used the panties as a slingshot, hitting him square in the forehead, before she turned her back on his cackling form. Alice paid attention the second time around, instead grabbing for a forest green pair of boyshorts, sliding them up her legs quickly before FP got any other bright ideas.

Alice turned her attention back to her daughter, “Do you need me to bring anything?”

“Just yourself.” Betty stumbled over her next words, “And FP.”

Alice stalled for a moment. She tapped her hand on the back of FP’s thigh -those same strong, well-defined, thick… Alice shook her head as her mind veered off track-, then tossed him a clean pair of boxers beside him. 

FP grabbed them, but didn't move to put them on, instead choosing to watch Alice. One of his favourite things about her, something that obviously came with adulthood, was her lack of concern over matching her panties to her bra. It was one of those things everyone assumed she did; Alice Smith, always put together with her perfect suits, and gaudy brooches, makeup expertly done, and not a hair out of place. But underneath everything, she wore whatever she wanted. Days at The Register meant comfort first, so full coverage and boyshorts under her clothes, usually in neutral colours. Days at RIVW meant pushup bras, thongs, and spanx, giving both a professional and sexy appearance that shone through on camera. Then there were the days at home, when she dressed for herself; she would grab the first thing she came across, tossing it on with little care as FP drank in the view. It meant a powder blue, 90% lace bralette matched with forest green panties, or black matched with tan, or the occasional red with purple, and he loved every second.

Alice noticed him watching her as she pulled her jeans up her legs. She rolled her eyes good-humouredly.

“The longer you sit there ogling me, the longer this will take.” Alice waited until FP clambered out of bed, before turning her attention back to Betty, “Where are we meeting you?”

“Meet us where the Queen of Hearts, and Jack of Diamonds live.”

And with that, Betty hung up.

“What was that all about?” FP, graceful as ever, stumbled into his jeans.

“Betty -and I can only assume Jughead- need us. Rather urgently, by the sounds of things.”

Alice pulled one of his t-shirts over her head, fluffing her hair with one hand, and grabbing for his red flannel with the other. Despite the interruption to their morning, FP beamed as she blatantly stole his clothes, dropping a kiss to the side of her neck as he went to find a shirt for himself.

“Just once, I’d like to have a lazy, uninterrupted morning with you.”

Alice sighed in agreement, grabbing her phone and her keys from the nightstand. She didn't bother with makeup, but did give herself a once over in the vanity as FP dug through the dresser for a shirt of his own.

“The faster we get over there, the faster we can come back, and continue with our plans.”

That didn't help at all. Everything in him wanted to pull her back onto the bed, and have his way with her. Maybe he'd ask her to keep the flannel on…

"FP!"

He blinked back into awareness a second before she'd tossed his jacket at his face.

"Get your mind out of the gutter. We have to go." Alice turned on her heel, and headed towards the front door.

FP paused, gaping as she disappeared down the hall, “Where are we even going?!”

* * *

The Andrews' front door opened a crack, a bright blue eye peeking out, before it swung wide open to reveal Betty and Jughead on the other side.

Betty ushered them into the house without a second thought, "Phones."

Alice and FP shot Betty a look as she held her hands out to them.

"Turn your phones right off, and hand them over."

"Tell me you're kidding." Alice narrowed her eyes at her youngest daughter.

"Not this time," Betty grabbed FP's from him, as she stared her mom down, "Call me paranoid."

"Hi Paranoid, I'm FP."

Both Smith women rolled their eyes, which only served to make him and Jughead laugh.

Betty chose to ignore the terrible Dad joke, instead just taking her mom's phone from her hands. Alice let out an indignant squeak, but didn't stop her daughter from shutting the phone off. Alice was a lot of things, -a hypocrite regularly coming and going from that list- but she could never really doubt her daughter’s instincts. Betty was too smart, and too driven to let irrational fear overtake her. If she was feeling paranoid, there was a good reason.

Betty handed the phones off to Veronica, watching as the other girl ran upstairs. Vegas trotted down the stairs as Veronica went up, circling around FP's legs excitedly the way he always had, waiting for all the chin scratches. Alice gave him a respectful pat on the head, letting him lick her hand exactly twice, before she moved further into the house.

“‘Meet us where the Queen of Hearts, and Jack of Diamonds live’?!” Alice shot her daughter a stern, but warm look, “Elizabeth, you  _ know _ I hate it when you speak in code.”

Jughead chuckled, “In her defence, you’re the only person who always understands her code.”

The Joneses learned very quickly to never,  _ ever _ play charades with the Cooper-Smith women. Alice and Betty were both equal levels of competitive, and seemed to develop a hive mind when it came to giving each other hints. Even with Charles, Jellybean, FP and Jughead all on one team, they could wipe the floor with them.

The older blonde huffed, “You could’ve just said ‘where Batman lit my skirt on fire’.”

Archie winced, “I thought we were never gonna talk about that again.”

Alice took the time to glare at him, undeterred as FP slid past her into the dining room, and the other kids chuckled at the exchange.

“Archibald, you were twelve years old at a costume party, and never considered that lighting a blowtorch while crouching next to a full length skirt could result in said skirt  _ catching fire. _ ”

Mary's head poked out from the dining room. She had been mindlessly pouring over legal papers and case notes early that morning when the four musketeers asked for her help. Mary had agreed immediately, even going so far as to invite Sierra over, just to be safe. At least with Alice and FP around, there was a minuscule chance level heads would prevail.

“You lit her skirt on fire? Archie…” Mary shook her head.

Sierra’s voice filtered in from the other room, “At least he knows how to kill a witch!”

Everyone, including Alice, laughed as she joined everyone else in the other room. A solid half of the reason Sierra and Alice were rarely in a room together was because they could reach catastrophic levels of sass together. They were far too matched in personality and smarts not to stir the pot with razor sharp words, and a glass of wine each.

As soon as Sierra was in view, Alice faked a glare, “Bite me, McCoy.”

Sierra matched her look, “Where, and how hard?”

Both women smirked, and what looked like a long-standing inside joke coupled with a very private memory ran through both their minds.

“We'll hash out the details later.”

That drew a whistle out of FP, “ _ Jesus _ , Al, you’re dangerous enough! The both of you together would be my death.”

Alice looked back at him with a naughty smirk, “But what a way to go.”

“Ew!”

“ _ Mom _ !!”

“WHY are you two like this!?” Jellybean punctuated the statement by covering her ears.

FP and Alice both turned to gape at the girl.

“What’s JB doing here?” FP’s eyes fell to the other parents first, before flicking towards the high schoolers.

“Unfortunately, this covert operation concerns me too.” JB frowned, before tearing back into the stack of pancakes set in front of her.

The room got heavy and serious. Any other day, Mary and Sierra sitting around the dining room table would be far from unusual. And while normally, Archie, Jughead, Betty and Veronica were prone to lounging about, seeing them standing stiffly, all crowded around the same doorway, wasn't the most alarming of sights. But nothing short of a twelve course meal or a near-death experience got Jellybean out of bed before eleven on a weekend, which meant things were worse than they'd anticipated.

With no other information offered, FP tried again, “Okay, why'd you bring us here?”

“We're here because it seemed safer than talking in our house.” Betty was quick to anticipate the next question. “And Mrs. Andrews called Mrs. Keller because it's always good to have lawyers present.”

No one questioned Veronica and Archie's presence. If Jughead and Betty were involved, it was no surprise the other two were right beside them.

“And extra hands in case you both decide to commit murder…” Jughead couldn’t help but mutter.

“That's not exactly reassuring.” Alice’s hands fell to her hips, “What is going on?”

All five kids shared a look.

“Do you wanna sit down? I think maybe-...”

Alice cut her off, “ _ Elizabeth _ .”

“Right. Shit.” Betty grabbed a manilla envelope, silently opening the top, and pulling out a few blown up pictures. “Charles has been lying to us.”

She turned each one over, and laid them on the table in front of her mom and FP. Each picture was obviously security camera footage, based on the angle, and the row of seats in front of a row of glass with telephones on either side proved it was the jail.

In the first picture, all they were looking at was Charles, sitting patiently as he waited for an inmate. But then, there it was… the man he was seeing.

Chic. 

“No.” Alice’s voice was a broken whisper.

One picture showed them talking, nothing reassuring, but also not necessarily horrifying. The last one was different, both men with their hands pressed against the glass, perfectly aligned, an obvious sign of affection, even with glass between them.

“It's my father's jail, so I went in, and checked the tapes and the log.” Veronica shifted uncomfortably, “Charles has gone to see him five times since Chic's arrest.”

Alice reacted first, putting a hand over her mouth, and running out to the main floor bathroom. When they heard the sound of retching, Jellybean jumped up to help, only to be stopped by a hand on her shoulder.

"I've got her." Sierra was out the door a second later.

FP stood still, jaw clenching, and shoulders tightening to alarming extremes. He'd let himself get attached; helping Charles look for Alice, opening his home and his heart to a young man that embodied so many missed opportunities. FP had been so worried, so careful not to disappoint another child, and there Charles was, colluding with one of the few people who really wanted to hurt their family.

“Fuck!”

FP leaned forward, slamming his hands on the table as he did so. It's only when everything wobbled that he immediately tried to steady it.

“Sorry, Mary. I-...”

The words caught on his throat, but she understood.

“It's okay, FP.”

“My-...” FP corrected himself, “ _ That _ boy is working with that psychotic weasel?!”

Despite his best efforts, everyone caught the slip.

“Dad, he's still your son. Betty and I both ran DNA on him.” Jughead kept his tone even.

Betty nodded in agreement.

“Mom too; and she supervised the whole process before she started helping the FBI. Jughead drove out to Glendale to double check. And I asked Veronica to fly samples to New York City.” Betty’s eyes turned downcast, “We all made sure Charles is, in fact, your son.”

They let the "after Chic" go unsaid.

"He's my son -our family-, and he betrayed us." FP ran a hand through his hair, "I don't know if that makes it better, or worse."

"Feels worse to me." Jughead stole a bite of food from Jellybean, wincing as she slugged him in the arm. "At least Chic was just an asshole. But Charles? This feels more tainted; everything we have now could've been real, but isn't."

Alice walked back into the room on shaky legs, Sierra watching her like a hawk. She locked eyes with FP, a shared shadow of pain clouding their eyes. He shifted, opening his arms to her, and she dove in.

"I can’t…" Alice hiccupped a sob, "I can’t do this again."

FP rubbed his hands up and down her back, the way he had when she'd first told him about Charles. He would remember that night as long as he lived. Alice, walking into the trailer, tears streaming down her cheeks, the half crumpled, bloody picture clutched in her fist, saying the words that both lifted his heart, and shattered it at the same time. FP dreamt about having a family with her since his thirteenth birthday; that night had forced him to grieve a thirty year old dream, and a year later, despite all the odds, he’d gotten it. And now it was slipping through his fingers again.

FP knew, no matter how deeply he was breaking, he knew it was being perfectly mirrored in Alice, who had given birth to Charles all alone at sixteen, and was losing him for the third time.

“Shh.” FP rested his chin on the top of her head, “We’ll figure this out.”

“It’s my fault.” Alice shook her head, “If I hadn’t given him up; if I hadn’t let Mrs. Cooper and Sister Woodhouse rip him away from me…”

FP pulled back, taking her face in his hands until she was looking at him. He knew how much everything with Charles hurt her. Hell, even without knowing about their boy, the Alice that returned from the Sisters was not the Alice that had left. There was a tired, haunted look in her eyes, and walls upon walls of emotional armour built so high, no one could ever get through. Not until her daughters were born.

“No. I won’t let you blame yourself.” He tugged her back into a hug, holding her tight as she sagged into him. “You thought you were giving him a better life.”

“That's what confuses me.” Archie’s brow knit in confusion.

“ _ That's _ what confused you?” Jellybean couldn’t help but mutter. 

The thirteen year old may have found him physically attractive, but she also found him to be dumb as a post on a good day.

Archie ignored her. “I've heard you tell him you thought he'd been adopted. Why would he hold a grudge for trying to give him a better life?”

More than one head nodded in agreement.

“That's a… surprisingly good point.” Jellybean glanced at her dad, “What do you think his underlying motivation is?”

Suddenly the thirteen year old found herself to be the centre of attention.

“What?” She shrugged, “We're doing a play in drama class.”

“Love, maybe? Apparently he’s Chic’s boyfriend.” It was Veronica’s turn to have all eyes on her. “One of the guards heard Charles and Chic say ‘I love you’ to each other. It sounds like they’re in a relationship.”

“Oh my god, I’m going to be sick again.” Alice moved one hand up to cover her mouth, while the other ran steady circles over her stomach.

A deep crease formed between Mary’s eyebrows, “So what does that mean? Were they both planning all this together?

“We don’t know.” Jughead adjusted his hat, “I don’t get it. Charles and Chic’s neighbour said they fought; and Chic hurt Charles badly.”

“Maybe it was a ruse, in case someone came looking for them?” Mary had been a lawyer in Chicago, she’d seen stranger things.

“There are easier ruses.” Sierra countered, "Letting Charles meet Alice and Betty in the first place springs to mind."

“True.”

“No matter the reason, we can't trust Charles. Not anymore.” FP rubbed his hand back and forth across Alice's back, almost absentmindedly.

Betty sighed, “That’s why I suggested meeting here. Charles admitted he’d tapped Kevin’s phone, and Jug and I realized if he could tap Kevin’s, he could have tapped all of ours.”

“And the house!” Jellybean added, “He’s over all the time.”

“Time to bring the RF detector home from work,” FP grumbled.

Alice was quick to wave him off, “We have one at home.”

The whole room blinked in surprise.

“Do we want to know?” Sierra, in fact, did  _ not _ want to know, but she knew as a lawyer, the question needed to be asked.

“I was married to a religious zealot indoctrinated into being a serial killer by his own parents.” Alice shrugged, “I didn’t know what he was, but I  _ did _ know his family was way too invasive.”

Mary, Sierra, and FP nodded. Anyone who'd had the misfortune of meeting Mrs. Cooper knew how intense and controlling she was. When it all came to light, that Hal's father had been a killer before him, and his mother had been not just complicit, but an accomplice, no one had been the slightest bit surprised.

Jellybean frowned, “The more I learn about your marriage, the more it seems like a twenty-five year long horror movie.”

The fact that Mr. Cooper was a serial killer -albeit a really,  _ really _ terrible one- alone was enough to justify a lot of Alice’s more serious eccentricities and neuroses.

Sierra glanced at her friends, “Why do you think Chic has it out for you?” 

Alice cleared her throat, “I don't know. Short of tying him up after he threatened us, all we did was open our house up to him.”

Betty felt her stomach drop, that final gear clicking into place.

“I… think I know.”

"Betty, what do you mean?" Alice tried to keep her voice even.

Alice leaned back, drawing strength from FP. She wanted to demand an answer from her, but she was tired; physically and emotionally uninvested in starting a fight with the only child she has left without an agenda.

Betty didn't answer right away. Instead, she reached out for the first hand she could find, releasing an anxious breath as Veronica squeezed her hand supportively.

"I know you instinctively want to protect yourself or your family, but Mary and I -and your Mom and FP as well- are here to protect  _ you _ . None of us can do that without all the information."

Alice shot Sierra a look of gratitude.

Betty sighed deeply. "Before I ever suspected Dad was the Black Hood, he would call me, and coerce me into 'proving my worth' to him."

"Like when you printed your mom's mugshot!" Archie added thoughtlessly.

Both Veronica and Betty smacked him hard. Just because Alice came out on top of that scandal, did NOT mean Archie had to point a finger at the person who'd caused it. 

To her credit, Alice's only response was to arch an eyebrow, otherwise remaining silent.

"After a while, he asked for the name of a 'sinner' to be his next victim." Betty's bottom lip quivered as her eyes met her mom's, "He threatened you and Polly, Mom. I didn't want to, at all…"

She trailed off, harshly chewing on her thumb nail. The lengths her own father had gone to terrorize her, to test her worth after warping her words in the name of murder really were sickening. 

"But then Chic admitted to being an imposter, and we found out what we  _ thought _ happened to Charles." Betty's eyes turned downcast, "I snuck Chic out of the basement, and handed him over to the Black Hood."

"Oh, Betty."

There was a softness in the way her mom said her name that had Betty's eyes welling up with tears.

"Up until that night in the Blossom forest, I thought Dad had killed him… And I was kind of okay with that."

Alice crossed the room, gathering Betty up in a tight hug. She and Betty may have their issues to work through, but they would always protect each other, no matter what. Alice couldn't help but feel the tiniest bit proud.

"Thank you for telling me." Alice pulled back a little, smoothing her daughter's hair back, "I'm sorry for what he put you through."

"I'm not the one he strangled." Betty said wryly.

Despite everything, they shared a laugh. 

"If Chic wants payback for selling him out, why is he going after all of us?" Jughead was quick to backtrack, "No offence, Bets."

She stepped away from her mom, barely sparing them a glance as the older woman walked back over to FP.

"Some boyfriend you are." Betty faked a glare.

"Hey, I was all for defending your honour when we were running through the forest away from Penelope Blossom and her merry band of murderers." Jughead shoved his hands in his front pockets, "But now I have Bret to deal with; I don't need Chic too."

Veronica groaned at that. "Why is this our life? I say we pack up, and head for a quick vacay."

All four parents nodded in agreement. Trouble seemed to find their children no matter where or how far they ventured, but at least on vacation, they might get a little sun before shit hit the fan.

"Nuh-uh. Last time we went on vacation, Lodge Lodge got burgled, and Archie ended up arrested for murder." Betty was always there with the dose of reality.

"Do our lives seem horrifying to you?" FP glanced at Alice.

"Come on, Jonesy. We survived when Senior and the Southside waged war against the Ghoulies." Alice quirked an eyebrow, "Murder plots are a cakewalk."

They laughed together, and FP pressed a kiss to the back of her head. If, at the end of the day, they were still together, still moving through life side-by-side, their kids right along with them, they will have done well. Of course, doing so without one or two murder plots would be a nice change. 

Alice reached back with her left hand, and laid it on top of FP's own. That was their connection; the physical closeness that was built on days of exploration and nights of escape. It was built on feeding the touch-starved created at the hands of parental abuse. It was a lingering hand on a shoulder during a tense meal for Jughead's birthday when their biggest worry was how best to pretend to hate each other. Alice and FP, drawn to each other's touch like magnets.

Their fingers intertwined on instinct, the way everyone had seen them do hundreds of times. Only this time, light caught on a pair of metal bands during the movement.

Jellybean was the first to notice, "What's with the rings?"

The room went still, everyone following Jellybean's line of sight until they were staring at FP and Alice's left hands.

There, on both their ring fingers, sat a band each; FP's in silver, Alice's in gold. There were obviously some designs, similar but not exactly the same, but it was hard to make out from all the different angles around the room.

FP and Alice froze, guilt washing over both of them.

"This isn't how we wanted you to find out."

Betty's eyes went wide, while Jughead and Jellybean gaped at the pair.

Suddenly, all three of them were talking at once.

"Are those-..."

"Tell me you didn't-!"

"Are you  _ married?! _ "

The former Serpents glanced at each other. As much as they wanted to keep it to themselves, and have a small, intimate secret for a little while, they couldn't deny what they meant to each other, not privately, and not publicly.

"Yes, we are." Alice bit her lip.

"I thought getting wasted and eloping was more of a Las Vegas thing." Betty's tone was sharp.

" _ Elizabeth _ !"

There was the smallest hint of guilt that passed over Betty's face as she remembered FP's sobriety. She refocused her frustration on her mother, "Don't 'Elizabeth' me! How could you keep this from us?!"

"We didn't keep anything from anyone!" FP was quick to continue, "It happened last night, and we didn't see any of you until we walked in here this morning."

They had prepared for anger, and biting remarks. But neither Alice nor FP expected to see hurt pass across all three of their kids' faces.

"You mean last night, when all we did was go to Pop's  _ with you guys _ -until you almost beat Mr. Lodge up-, then watched a stupid movie at the Bijou?" Jellybean's voice dropped to just above a whisper, "You could've asked us to come."

Alice dropped herself down onto the chair beside Jellybean, waiting until she caught the thirteen year old's eye, "We didn't even know that's where the night was heading. But the second we did, we tried calling all of you. Your phones were off."

Oh. 

They'd turned them off for the movie; that was one of the only things Jughead and Veronica ever agreed upon. Movie theatres were sacred spaces, which should be respected and treated with the utmost dignity. That meant phones off, and near silence throughout the film. Jellybean had called them snobs, stealing half the popcorn while no one was looking.

Afterwards, when phones had been powered on, each one of them found a missed call from the parents. Jellybean tried to call back without hesitation. But when FP had answered Alice's phone, more than a little breathless, and told them everything was fine, the whole group had been too grossed out at the implication to question him further.

"So you spontaneously decided to be petty, and selfish, and ruin my relationship with Juggie?" Betty crossed her arms.

"How is it petty to want to be happy with the man I love?" Selfish, maybe. But Alice more than deserved one small moment of selfishness after twenty-five years of misery, "And this has nothing to do with you and Jughead!"

"Doesn't it?! We're siblings now!" Betty's voice was dripping with sarcasm, "I guess our relationship is over!"

"Um, what?" Jughead blinked in surprise.

Veronica cleared her throat, "Not to side with your mom, but you found out you share a sibling with your boyfriend, and didn't break up, why is this any different?"

"Veronica!" 

She held her hands up defensively, "I'm just saying!"

Sierra could see the disappointment colouring Alice's features, and made the decision to speak up. "Not to jump in the middle of this very entertaining family feud, but this was a long time coming. FP has wanted to marry Alice since high school."

"You have?" The disbelief was evident in Jughead's voice.

"I was gonna ask her after graduation." FP sighed, "But then Al walked in the first day of senior year, and told everyone she and Cooper had gotten hitched over summer break."

A serious look passed between him and Alice; sadness, and exhaustion pouring between them. There was something else there, too. That red-hot passion, simmering just below the surface, one feeding off the other. Sierra rolled her eyes, then reached under the table, to pinch Alice's leg. The blonde yelped in alarm.

"The point is, they took a bit of a stumble, but they made it." 

Sierra went through the same thing with Josie and Kevin. She knew they were lucky, their kids would never date each other, not in a million years. It was easy to rationalize her marriage to Tom. Alice and FP had just as much history, and they had their son, but teenagers in love -especially one directly related to Alice 'Drama Queen' Smith herself- are rarely rational. 

"If you kids can't celebrate that, maybe you could, at the  _ very _ least, acknowledge it?"

Feeling admonished, Betty, Jughead, and Jellybean hung their heads.

"Congratulations," Jughead mumbled.

"Yeah, congrats." Betty did her best to force a smile.

"Best wishes!"

The men in the room look at Jellybean in confusion.

She rolled her eyes, "'Congratulations' is for the groom, 'best wishes' to the bride, you uncultured swine."

Alice chuckled, leaning over, and kissing Jellybean on the cheek. JB couldn't quite hide her blush.

"Can I ask a stupid question?" Archie punctuated the statement by raising his hand.

Jughead couldn't help but deadpan, "Better than anyone else I know."

There was a pause, before Archie shoved him, both best friends chuckling.

"How did the wedding even happen?"

"I second that question." Betty had her usual look of determination on her face.

Alice frowned, "Don't you think we've been sidetracked enough?"

She obviously didn't want to talk about Charles and Chic, but she wanted an argument with Betty even less.

"We're obviously at a standstill over Charles." Betty crossed her arms, "So talk."

* * *

_ "What the  _ HELL _ were you thinking?!" _

_ The evening had started off well enough. She and FP were invited along with the kids for dinner and a movie, on the condition that they paid. That had been a surprisingly easy sell. Not five minutes after ordering, Hiram and Hermione walked over to the table under the guise of speaking to their daughter, but soon, tensions and tempers flared between the men. FP's hands had been fisted in Hiram's shirt when Alice intervened. She dragged FP out of Pop's by the arm, not stopping until they reached his truck. She shoved FP once more for good measure, glaring him down until he was standing in front of the driver's side door. _

_ "Al, you heard him." He turned back towards the diner, ready to take another shot at the rich bastard, only for Alice to step in his line of sight. _

_ There was a tense standoff between them; FP searching for a way around her, and Alice daring him to try. Eventually he sighed in defeat. _

_ "Of course I heard him. What were you gonna do, kick his ass, then arrest yourself?!" _

_ She waited until he was halfway into the truck, before she walked around to the passenger door. _

__

_ "Hiram is a jackass, Jonesy. But you're sheriff now, not just the Serpent King." With both doors closed, her tone softened, "You can’t go around beating the piss out of people anymore." _

_ FP slammed his fist down on the top of the steering wheel. Alice followed the movement, taking his hand in hers, and interlacing their fingers. It took a minute for him to calm down; breathing deeply until tension left his shoulders. Alice's hand never once moved from holding his. _

_ They drove in silence through the town, winding along the Northside roads until they pulled onto Elm Street, and into their driveway.  _

_ It's only as FP reached for the door that Alice spoke up again, "Talk to me." _

_ "You could've told me about Charles." _

_ Hiram would always be an arrogant jackass, but he wasn't stupid. He knew how to push a person's buttons; manipulate their worries to his own advantage. _

_ It was almost too easy to get a rise out of FP, calling him a fraud and a disappointment of a sheriff. But then he dragged Alice into the fight, pointing out she hadn't told him when she was pregnant, and "I really can't blame her. All three of your kids were better off without you".  _

_ FP hadn't hesitated before grabbing him by the collar with one hand, pointing his switchblade with the other. _

_ "I know I wasn't a great guy back then. I was never reliable, but you still could've told me." _

__

_ "I know." Alice bit her lower lip, "I was scared of getting hurt again, or ruining your chance at getting out of the Southside. We had plans for the first time, and I thought I would be destroying them." _

_ FP's whole high school makeover to hide his Southside roots and to look like every other Northsider jock with a promising future, the goal to carry him to a halfway decent college, ideally as far away from Riverdale as he could get. And then when that didn't pan out, the army, and the education and pay it could offer. It wasn't the American dream, but it was something. _

_ As much as she had wanted to believe otherwise, Alice knew none of that would've happened if she'd told him about the baby. _

_ "I was scared we'd end up like our parents; me, a teenaged mom who hated her kid so much, she turned to a constant stream of drugs rather than make any attempt at being a parent." Alice heard her voice crack, "And you, brokenhearted, drunk, and abusive, just like Senior." _

_ "I guess it didn't matter." His eyes turned downcast, "Still turned out like him, anyways." _

_ "No, FP. You didn't." Alice shifted in her seat until she was facing him, "You stumbled, yeah. You started drinking, and fell down that hole. But you aren't like Senior. You would never raise a hand to your kids." _

_ She could see the doubt burrowing deep into his heart. Her hand reached up, combing through his hair over and over until he sighed contently. _

_ "You are a good man, FP. The best one I've ever known. And I want to spend every day of the rest of my life with you." _

_ Warmth spread over FP's features. Those words, even the glimmer of possibility behind them meant everything to him. She was right there with him, thinking about their future, investing herself in building that reality.  _

_ He slid her hand forward until he could comfortably kiss her palm. _

_ After a moment, a smirk teased his features, "I think that was an implication that you wanna marry me, Ms. Smith." _

_ Alice smiled at him, "Jonesy, if we had a chapel in this town, I would marry you right now." _

_ The small town life did put a small damper on grand gestures, but sometimes, it offered the opportunity for impulsivity. _

_ "Do…" FP hesitated for a moment, "Do you want to?"  _

_ "Do I want to what?" _

_ He took a deep breath, hoping to keep the nervousness out of his voice, "Judge Bates never leaves his chambers before 8pm, and it's barely six." _

_ "FP…." _

_ "We're both divorced." Thank God for Gladys for putting in the bare minimum effort, and serving him with the divorce papers two weeks after she left, "We can grab those certificates, and two pieces of ID -which I  _ know _ you have on you anyways-, and we can head over. Hell, I'll even call ahead to make sure he knows we're on our way." _

_ "What about the kids?" Alice sighed, "This would make Betty and Jughead step-siblings." _

_ "They share a brother and still want to be together. And it would be naive of them to think we weren't heading this way anyways." He raised a good point. "They'll deal." _

_ FP loved the kids with everything he had, Alice’s included. But he was too old, and his life too painful to keep from being happy now. _

_ But… they were still their kids. _

_ It was his turn to sigh, "I'll call the boys, you call the girls. Maybe they can meet us." _

_ They had the phones out immediately, dialing and waiting for any of the four kids -five, including Alice's quick call to Veronica- to answer. But no one did. _

_ "Or maybe not." _

_ He chewed the inside of his cheek. He loved Alice with everything he had; and if not having the kids there with them was the dealbreaker, he would wait. Until they could make it, until they were old and grey, it didn't matter. Hell, if she had any hesitation whatsoever, he would wait. Alice would always be worth the wait. _

_ "What about rings?" _

_ FP bit back a grin. _

_ "Check the glove compartment." _

_ Alice’s eyebrows knit, before she reached over. FP was graveyard quiet as she popped the battered door open. There wasn’t much in it, a few papers, a screwdriver -always, in case he has to jack a car-, six packs of gum because  _ of course _ there were, and a small box. Alice grabbed a pack of gum first, popping one out and into her mouth before tossing it at FP’s chest. _

_ FP laughed as he too grabbed a piece of gum, "Not exactly what I meant." _

_ They were both chuckling as she pulled the box out of the compartment. It was a well-worn red velvet, and a bit heavier than she expected considering the size.  _

_ "Now, what does a box have to do-..." She couldn't help but tease him. _

_ FP cut her off, "Would you just open the box, woman?" _

_ Alice tossed her head back with a laugh as she finally popped the box open. _

_ The laughter immediately died on her throat. _

_ There were two rings sitting there. One was silver, bigger and thicker, while the other was gold. Both were intricately designed, an Ouroboros design carefully cast and polished, right down to the detail in the head, and scales around the outside. The silver was simple, the snake eating the tip of its own tail, eyes hard and deep on the side of the head. The gold one was more unique, the more slender snake biting near the end of the tail, with the tip up and back around the head. There were three small white stones in place of scales, moving from the back of the head down the body just a bit. _

_ "Forsythe." _

_ He watched her carefully; watched the warmth swell in her chest, tears welling up in her eyes, thoughts circling like a pinwheel through her mind at the speed of light. _

_ "After you disappeared with the Farm; after meeting Charles, and finding out what you'd been doing for him…" FP snapped his gum nervously, "Al, I needed  _ something _ to keep me from going crazy with worry. So I started working metal again." _

_ Metalwork was one of the few useful things he’d learned from his father. Forsythe Senior had been a writer once upon a time, until that image clashed with that of a Serpent King. So he adapted, and taught his son to do the same. It helped calm his mind, and kept his hands busy at a time when he needed an escape.  _

_ When he was a teenager, FP would make gifts for people in his life; an earring for Tall Boy, a metal rose for some passing Vixen in junior year, and the thin band Alice still wore on her right middle finger. _

_ But these, they were so much more intimate. _

_"One day I was thinking about you, and thinking about us. I know your ring finger is the exact same size as my pinkies, and I don't know." He shrugged, "I was impulsive, I guess._ _I just knew I couldn't let you slip through my fingers again."_

_ Alice leaned forward, wrapping her hands around his neck, playing with the hair on the back of his neck as she guided him in for a kiss. There was the taste of excitement on their tongues; minty longing, dueling with strawberry giddiness, iced tea impatience, and the smallest bite of smokey fear. The anticipation in the kiss left them breathless. _

_ Alice Smith was not one for spontaneous, nor was she normally comfortable with long term decisions being made in a split second. But it was FP, the man who knew her better than she knew herself, and who would never willfully hurt her. It was unconventional, and might backfire on them when the kids found out, but it felt right, too. And she could never regret that. _

_ "You are the most…" Alice pressed another three kisses to his lips with each word, "Batshit crazy, romantic man to ever exist, FP Jones." _

_ The grin on her face made him beam right back at her, "More or less crazy romantic than when I stole Senior's bike, and we rode down to New Orleans?" _

_ They had been too young to be on a bike, legally, but they'd been desperate to get Alice as far away from her mother as they could. It worked, for a month, until Forsythe Senior found them, and dragged them home. _

_ "More romantic, less crazy." Alice shuddered at the memory, "That trip wasn't worth the tanning we got." _

_ Neither one of them had been able to sit down for a week after their parents were through with them. _

_ They both winced at the memory, but it didn't affect the grinned stretching across their faces. _

_ "Call Judge Bates. I'll grab all the documents we need." _

_ Alice opened the door, before she changed her mind. She leaned back across the seats, to kiss him again, long and deep, and full of adoration. _

_ "I love you, Forsythe." _

_ He beamed at her, "I love you too, Alice." _

_ He had his phone out before she had even gotten out of the truck. _

_ "Taylor? It's FP Jones. I have a bit of a favour to ask you…" _

* * *

"Please let me throw you two a reception." They could see Veronica's mind click into party-planning mode, "Tasteful, I promise."

At some point, everyone had shifted in the room. Mary and Sierra were seated on the far side of the table, watching in amusement as Jellybean devoured another helping of pancakes from her place at the head of the table. Betty and Veronica decided to share Alice's vacated seat, Betty's arm thrown across the back of the chair, Veronica tucked into her side from shoulder to hip. 

The boys made themselves comfortable in the last two chairs. Jughead found himself enraptured in the tale; romance wasn't his usual genre, but even he could appreciate the unique intimacy in their tale. Archie followed his best friend's lead, but not without first offering the chair to Alice. She had declined, pressing her back more firmly against FP's front as he leaned back against the window.

"I’ll let you throw a town-wide blowout, as long as your father’s not around." FP pulled a face.

"Deal!"

Veronica was on her phone immediately, her thumbs flying across the screen at light speed. Betty leaned over to watch, her eyes widening as her best friend compiled ideas and references in a document.

"How the  _ hell _ do you have Vivienne Westwood's number?!"

Veronica waved her off, as she became more engrossed in her new project.

"Fred had this whole to-do before proposing to me. You propose after almost breaking a man's jaw, and somehow that's more romantic?" Mary couldn't help but tease FP.

FP snorted, "To be fair,  _ everything _ went wrong when Fred proposed to you."

That had been a goddamn disaster. Fred had planned a picnic by Sweetwater River, complete with a table, candles, and a bouquet of roses.

Fred had gotten FP to set up, which had gone without a hitch. But he hadn't accounted for the incoming thunderstorm. The wind kicked up fifteen minutes before their arrival, forcing FP to stick around, and tie everything down as best he could; the tablecloth held down by stones, the bouquet hidden in his truck, the champagne and food still tucked away in the cooler until he saw Fred and Mary walking towards him. 

FP hadn't stuck around after they arrived, not wanting to infringe on Fred's moment. But later accounts from Fred and Mary, as well as random Serpent who happened to be passing by, mentioned the tablecloth on fire, the bouquet floating down the river, and a family of geese helped themselves to the picnic.

Fred had always said he was lucky Mary believed it was the thought that counted.

"I have a question." Betty took great delight in watching FP wince in anticipation, "How do you know her ring size?"

FP chuckled, "She's been a ring thief since we were eight."

"Okay,  _ rude _ !" Alice elbowed FP in the side, "You  _ gave _ me the first one."

_ While going out of his way to avoid Forsythe senior, FP had found a ring partially buried in the junkyard, thick, and tungsten, and small enough for his tiny hands.  _

_ He was off like a shot, taking his usual shortcut home, anxious to polish his new prize. FP had just turned down the back alley behind the bodega when he found himself skidding to a halt. Alice was hidden, her body wedged on the far side of the dumpster, out of sight of the road. At first, FP assumed she was playing a game with the other kids, but as he got closer, he noticed her face. There was a nasty red and purple mark next to her eye, and tear tracks going down her cheeks. He didn't have to ask to know it was her mom's fault. _

_ FP didn't hesitate before plunking himself down beside her, and tugging his new ring off his pinky, and trying it on each of her fingers, until it fit, on her ring finger. _

_ She'd looked him over, wonder and suspicion swirling around her features. _

_ "Why'd you do that, FP?" _

_ He shrugged, "I didn't want you to be sad anymore." _

_ "I'm never sad when I'm with you." _

_ An idea popped into his head. _

_ "Then when we're big, I'll marry you. That way I can always be around, and you'll never be sad again." _

Things really did have a way of working out.

"My little finger is the same size as her ring finger; always has been, and I’d like to think always will be." FP placed a kiss to the back of Alice's neck.

Alice hummed contently, "You know, technically, that was the first time you proposed."

"Kinda seems like fate, doesn’t it?"

A warm smile graced her lips. She was so lucky to have him; to finally be married to him.

Alice reached up, scratching his beard, relishing in the happy sigh that followed. His right hand slid under her - _ his _ \- shirt, his fingers sliding inside the top of her jeans.

"Watch those hands, FP!" Betty, who had been innocently eating grapes out of the fruit basket, chucked one at FP.

Her mom caught it midair. Instead of eating it herself, Alice stuck the tip between her teeth, then turned just enough for FP to take a bite. As each half of the grape fell back into their mouths, they shared a quick kiss.

Betty, Jughead, and Jellybean gagged.

"Get a room!"

"We had one this morning, until you called us over here." A grin grew on FP's face as the grimaces deepened on the kids' faces.

"Remind me to tell Josie and Kevin about this. They act like we're the only parents to ever kiss." Sierra fought back her laughter.

"They don't just kiss, they make out." Jellybean pulled a face, "Like, on the couch, at the kitchen island-..."

"Really! Kitchen island?" Sierra gave up her fight, and full belly laughed.

"People eat there!" Jughead pointed to himself.

"Relax, it was on the stool, not the island itself." Alice punctuated the statement with another eyeroll.

"Come on, they're newlyweds! Let them have fun." Even Archie could see how happy they were.

"Remember that time you caught your parents?" Betty powered on, even as his face fell in disgust, "That's what it's like for us. All the time."

Mary flushed red, made only worse as her friends turned to stare at her.

"You, Miss Prim and Proper got  _ caught _ by your son?" Alice was practically vibrating in amusement.

It was Archie who answered her, "Yes, she did."

His miserable response had the other kids laughing, albeit in sympathy.

Sierra nudged her friend, "I desperately want to hear more!"

"Same here!"

FP could only laugh as Mary hid her face in mortification.

"I'll tell you later."

Sierra and Alice shared a smirk, already plotting out the countless ways they were going to tease Mary at a later date.

"You're all marriage goals." With a hand on her chest, Veronica swooned dramatically, "I hope to be as unequivocally hot and in love as you are in twenty-five years."

She managed to draw laughter out of everyone.

FP was mid-chuckle, when he heard a noise, and glanced over his shoulder to look out the window. Suddenly his whole body became tense.

"Are you okay?" Alice turned in his arms to face him.

He pulled Alice into a quick kiss, then stepped away from her. There was fury in his eyes, and determination in his steps as he stormed out of the room, and out the front door.

Jughead glanced at his new stepmom, "What was that all about?!"

Alice shrugged, before turning to the window.

At first, all she saw was their house, and their cars, before her eyes locked on the front walk.

"Shit! Charles is here."

Suddenly, there was a stampede of feet running at full tilt out of the Andrews house. FP had a head start, having crossed from one driveway to the other, barreling across the lawn towards the FBI agent.

"FP!"

"Dad, don't-!"

The commotion got Charles' attention. He turned away from the front door, looking curiously at his family.

Charles frowned at FP's enraged look, "Dad, what's going-?"

"You bastard!"

FP didn't stop moving as he took a swing at Charles.


	2. Whatever He Ain’t

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The family confronts Charles on his deception.

“Don't move.” Alice stood between FP's legs as he sat at the kitchen island, glasses on her nose while she assessed the wound next to FP’s eye. 

The scene outside had been a total debacle; FP had swung his arm, running on devastation and protective rage, before he could stop and think about his actions. Unfortunately for him, Charles didn’t need to, dodging and returning the hit on instinct alone. Between his FBI academy class ring, and the fact that the swing was backed by a decent amount of strength, FP found himself flat on his back, apologies falling from Charles' lips without hesitation.

Once Alice had scraped FP off the front stoop, the whole group had reconvened in the Cooper-Jones household, the blonde meticulously looking over his wounds, while the teenagers, Sierra and Mary watched Charles like a hawk.

Charles held his head in his hands, “I’m so sorry, FP.”

“If he wasn't expecting to get hit, he shouldn't have swung first.” Alice clenched her jaw.

FP jerked back, “I was defending my fam-”

Her hand came up, and covered his mouth.

“Enough.” Alice leveled him with a look, “You're going to need stitches.”

He sighed.

“Do it.”

Alice pivoted, rooting around in her well-used first aid kit until she found a curved surgical needle. With the needle in hand, she stepped away from FP, grabbing his lighter out of his jacket, before sterilizing the needle carefully. The room choked with horror as FP took off his leather belt, folded it in half, and waited for Alice to finish. 

“Um.” Betty eyed the pair suspiciously, “This very much seems like a hospital situation.”

FP’s eyes turned downcast, “I don't want to risk my recovery on anaesthetic.”

“There is such a thing as non-addictive painkillers.” Jughead understood where his dad was coming from -and he was more than reassured that it was his primary thought- but it seemed over reactive, to say the least.

“Which are about as effective as no painkillers at all.” FP shrugged, “No point in wasting money on something Al can do blindfolded.”

Alice could feel all eyes on her, watching carefully as she washed her hands. She ignored them, instead snapping on a pair of latex gloves, running down her mental checklist of first aid prep.

“Do you want me to count it down?” Alice gestured for him to tilt his head back just a bit.

That was the trick she'd learned the second time she'd ever stitched him up. It was easier for him -and her, really- knowing how bad it was, and how many stitches she had left until it was done. It had, however, always been much easier with a bottle of whiskey in-hand, but they were both more than willing to make adjustments.

FP nodded once, stopping only as pain rocketed down the side of his face. But with pain, came cool comfort, as Alice cradled his cheek, chasing away any discomfort with her touch.

“Okay.” She stepped closer, one of her legs on either side of his left thigh, shifting to hold the needle in one hand, and the needle holder in the other, “Five.”

FP moved the folded belt between his teeth, and bit down hard, as the needle pierced his skin on either side of the cut. She fed the hook through just enough, before using the holder to pull it out the other side. That was enough for Veronica; she turned her head away from the surgical needlework, while everyone else watched in horrified fascination. There was a level of trust between them that was unparalleled; for FP to let Alice stitch him up without anaesthetic, and for Alice to understand his needs without hesitation? Between their history, and the love and support they had for each other, their marriage really was just an inevitability.

Alice tied it off with the needle holder, looping long side of the thread twice around the tip, then grabbing the end of the thread, and pulling it through. She repeated the process three times, before cutting just above the knot.

"Four."

The second stitch went in, and the thread was pulled through as delicately as possible. Alice's eyes flicked over to FP for a second, watching him watch her carefully. She knotted that off as well, then cut it.

"Three."

That one went in with greater resistance, despite her careful ministrations. FP groaned as she pulled the needle out the other side.

"I'm sorry, Jonesy." Alice bit the inside of her cheek, "Two."

She was precise as she tied the penultim stitch off. Alice knew her eyes were older, her hands a bit shakier, but this was second nature in so many ways. Southsiders grew up in hard times, and most of them died in hard times as well. And while they lived rough-and-tumble lives, they could scarcely afford hospital visits. Dislocated shoulders were snapped back into place out behind a trailer, gashes were treated with a shot of whiskey on the wound and another down the throat. If a kid broke a wrist, sometimes Serpents would toss a few bills at a nurse in order to get a quick cast, and very few babies were born in the hospital. Money was saved for emergencies, and twenty-five years pretending to be a Northsider didn't change that.

Alice started the last stitch without any warning, bringing the whole room to a standstill until the needle came out the other side of his skin.

"And you're done." Alice tied off quickly, cutting the last end as everyone sighed in relief.

It was that moment, when the adrenaline was wearing off, and her brain caught up to the morning's events, that Alice's stomach turned for a second time. She rushed over to the kitchen sink, and heaved.

That couldn't be good.

"You okay?" Charles eyed his mother carefully.

Alice nodded, before her stomach rolled again. She just managed to shake her head before throwing up again.

"Damn." FP was up like a shot, walking up behind her, and rubbing her back. "Do you wanna lie down?"

She braced her hands on the edge of the sink, "I'm fine. Give me a sec."

"That's the second time this morning." Jellybean chose her words carefully, "Is everything okay, Allie?"

"I'm good. Just a stomach bug, or something."

Charles raised an eyebrow at that, "You sure?"

It was Betty who answered him, "She said she's fine. Leave it alone, Charles."

He looked at his younger sister in surprise. Her tone was unusually hostile, -at least unusual when directed at him; Charles had learned doe-eyed Betty could glare someone into an early grave-, her eyes boring into his with a volcanic intensity.

The FBI agent looked at the other teenagers, noting similar distrust on their faces as well. "Okay, seriously. What's the matter with you?"

"Shouldn't we be asking  _ you _ that question?" Jellybean grumbled.

Charles shot her a look of confusion, before glancing back to his parents. 

Neither one met his gaze. FP was staring off into space, his jaw clenched from a mix of pain and frustration. His head was spinning -it was a REALLY good punch, okay? He couldn't help but be a little proud-, and he needed answers, but Alice looked so tired, and hurt, and she was obviously feeling quite ill, so he let that slide.

Alice wouldn't even look at Charles, her focus solely on breathing through the nausea. She knew whatever Charles said, she was his mom; she would always love him, and forgive him, even if he was screwing them over.

Charles frowned, "What does that mean?"

"Why don't you ask  _ Chic _ ?" Betty shot him a scathing look.

Charles paled considerably. " I can explain."

"Can't fucking  _ wait _ to hear what bullshit excuse you come up with." Jughead muttered. 

"It's not bullshit!" Charles ran a hand through his hair, "I was using  _ him _ for my investigation!"

"Oh yeah? How is tapping OUR phones using  _ him _ ?!" Betty crossed her arms, "How is lying to us, and breaking all of our hearts using  _ Chic _ , exactly?!"

"I didn't tap Alice's phone!"

Betty had been bluffing. No one knew for sure that Charles was tapping their phones. But to hear his confirmation, and without any hesitation? Betty felt the urge to throw up right along with her mom.

" _ Wow _ , one out of five." There was sarcasm dripping from her tone, "Such great odds."

"She's the only one I knew without a doubt would never talk to Gladys Jones!" Charles' voice rises in frustration, "Jug and JB are her kids, FP was her husband, and as long as you are connected to Jughead, Betty, she has the potential to use that."

Suddenly, he had everyone's undivided attention.

"At least with Alice, she once told me she wouldn't stop if Gladys was bleeding on the street."

Despite the amusement colouring the room, Alice found herself protesting, "I was being flippant! I would call 911."

From a safe distance, and possibly with a firearm in hand.

"You're investigating my mom?" Jellybean's face fell.

Charles reached out to rest a comforting hand on her shoulder, only to have his baby sister shove him away.

"It’s my job, JB. It isn’t about you, or the family, I promise."

"What exactly is this about, then?" FP led Alice back over to the kitchen island, waiting until she hoisted herself onto a stool before he followed suit.

Charles ground his teeth, "This case has been going on long before I joined the Bureau."

"So  _ you’re _ not investigating our mom." Jughead's tone was careful.

"No. Well, yes." Charles sighed deeply. He was starting to understand why so many of his suspects were so defensive. "I shouldn't be telling you any of this."

"Too freaking bad." Betty's anger was coming off her in waves, "Either you overshare about your little case, or we bury you in the backyard, and alibi each other out."

To everyone's surprise, Alice refrained from scolding Betty over the threat.

"Can I run out to the car for a second? I think it will help." Charles' eyes darted to his parents quickly.

Everyone exchanged suspicious glances. Alice still couldn't look towards the table; she could not trust herself to remain impartial when it came to her baby boy’s guilt. So she kept her eyes on FP, and he kept his on her, their very reasonable doubt coloured by their unwavering love for their son. 

The kids watched each other. Betty and Veronica having a whole conversation with just their eyes carefully planning and strategizing next steps. The boys and Jellybean shared a similar look, with more direct and physical intentions, more defensive against any response Charles might have. Mary and Sierra just sat back, watching Charles with more impartial eyes, noting stress on the man’s face, yet noting the lack of guilt they typically saw in defendants.

"I'll go with you." FP pushed himself to standing, only to have one of Alice's arms block his path.

"You will not. Jughead and Archie will go."

Jughead was naturally suspicious and an excellent investigator, and Archie was a boxer. It would be enough, just in case.

"Agreed."

There was a tired hesitation as boys took their leave. While Jellybean had imagined a villainous cackle, no one had any expectations of how the confrontation would end. In the back of her mind, Betty knew it wouldn’t be the first time she’d jumped to conclusions -something that was a Smith family trait- but her dad’s betrayal, not to mention his killing spree still burned the back of her eyelids every night when she went to bed.

"For what it’s worth, I believe him." Mary's heart went out to her friends and their children; she could see the defeat written all across their faces, "I’ve seen the worst of the worst in Chicago, and defended a good deal of them. I know when someone is guilty. The only thing Charles is guilty of, is worrying about losing his family."

"I agree with Mary." Sierra walked over, placing a comforting hand on Alice’s shoulder, "I know it’s hard to believe, but Charles seems like a genuine, good man."

"But we can't be certain, can we? At least not really." Alice turned her head, moving her chin to sit on top of Sierra’s hand, letting her fingers dangle down, and intertwine with FP’s. "For all we know, he’s running a long con, just like Chic was."

"That seems like a lot of effort just to hurt us." Jellybean bit her bottom lip.

"Not really, not with Al and I as his parents." FP ran a hand over his face, "We ran schemes this complicated in our sleep at  _ half _ his age."

That did NOT make Betty feel better. "One day I’m going to need a detailed list of all the illegal things you two did as kids."

Mary nodded in agreement, "And as soon as you do, if you could pass that list along to Sierra and myself, on the off chance we need to defend anything the statute of limitations does  _ not _ cover."

"We weren’t that bad!" FP's protest was weak at best.

Alice rolled her eyes, "Ummm…  _ I _ wasn’t that bad; I got out at sixteen."

He pouted at her. She was teasing him, he knew. Out of the two of them, she had been far more devious in their childhood endeavors than he could ever dream to be. But Alice was right; she got out of the gang life. And even before she had, her criminal acts rarely hurt anyone; more of a prank-like nature than anything else. He really couldn't say the same.

"I’m Sherriff now…"

Alice combed a hand through his hair, chuckling at her husband's little whine in protest.

"It's too bad we can't confirm what he's saying." Veronica's brow knit in thought, "Talk to a supervisor, or another agent maybe."

That was a remarkably good point.

"My contact in the FBI wasn't Charles; not originally." Alice leaned her body on FP, reaching behind him to grab her phone, "I'll text him, and get him to call me when he can."

"Isn't Chris Rayburn still the director of the FBI?" Mary asked.

Alice didn't look up from her phone, "I think so."

"Well, that works. I used to date him. I think I still have his number in my address book."

Mary ignored the looks of surprise on everyone's faces. Instead, she grabbed her keys, and turned for the front door.

"Mary?" The red haired woman walked back into the room as Alice called her name, "Back door. It will be less suspicious."

No sooner had Mary ducked out when the boys returned, Charles carrying two boxes in his arms, and Archie trailing behind with one more. Betty made no effort to move, forcing Charles to walk around the table, and set up on the far side.

Archie glanced around the room, noticing his mom's absence immediately.

"Where-..." It was only as the girls glared at him that he backtracked, "... Did this investigation start?"

If Charles noticed the slip-up, he didn't comment, "Gladys is a drug lord with an empire that spans from New York City to Toledo, with talk of her making moves on Chicago. And Hiram Lodge -sorry Veronica- has been her mob contact for years. My first assignment out of the Academy was this case."

He pulled files out of one box, passing case notes and profiles to Betty, Jughead, and Veronica -while making sure to skip over Jellybean and Archie-, and trial minutes to Sierra. He had more to share, but it was obvious even to him that his parents weren't ready to look.

"I was minutes out of the Academy when they sent me undercover. Another agent was working the case, and knew a dealer's regular side piece was looking for a roommate. Then, a couple days without sleep, a quick airbrushing, and I was in."

Charles hadn't been shy about his sexuality, and overall hadn't been discriminated against because of it. Then when word got out of the undercover post, and of Chic's sexuality, and suddenly Charles found himself in a crash course for the realities of undercover work.

"First couple days, Chic thought I was coming down off a high, so he made himself scarce, which gave me the chance to snoop." He pulled another folder out of the box, laying it on the table for everyone to see, "I got what little information I could, but he didn't trust me as far as he could throw me, so gaining his trust became my goal."

That might have been the hardest part. Chic was naturally paranoid, and defensive. At first, every trick Charles tried was rebuffed without hesitation. But then he really paid attention. 

Chic's countless online talks with strangers were illuminating. Aggression was met with dismissal, while deceit was met with an almost violent hostility. But honesty, the kind that came from leaving yourself vulnerable to those who had every intention of hurting you? That was it, the key to getting anything out of Chic.

"I started opening up; I told him the backstory I set up with the FBI, about how my ex had tossed me out on my ass, with no money, and I was desperate for any kind of work." Charles leaned over, pointing to a page in Veronica's hand, before continuing, "He set me up online, which gave the FBI access to a whole host of lower level creeps. Once he saw I was doing well, he started to open up."

He reached into the second box, grabbing the first three files, and opened them up on the table.

"I was just supposed to get information, not make a play for any higher ups, and that's what I was doing the first time he caught me on his computer." Charles pointed to pages and pages of names and numbers from Chic's private contact list, "I was so panicked, and the first -honestly the  _ only _ \- thought I had was of you, Alice. So I told him I was trying to hunt you down again."

"What…" Alice cleared her throat, her tenuous grip on her emotions getting shakier by the second, "Why would you mention me?"

"I don't know why, exactly. One minute, Chic is walking in, and ready to kill me for invading his privacy." Charles bit the inside of his cheek, "All I could think was, 'I should've told my mom who I was'. And that thought saved me."

Alice leaned her weight into FP, just a bit more.

"The thing about undercover work is, sometimes it's best to use what you know; your own first name, bits and pieces of your own history. That way, there's minimal chance of forgetting it." He turned to face her, catching her eye when she chanced a glance in his direction, "I said I was born to a teen mom, and how she left me to rot at the Sisters."

Alice's face fell, and he was quick to continue.

"I told him how Sister Woodhouse would call me 'Baby Snake', the son of her wretched 'Little Serpent bitch'." Charles smiled gently. "What I didn't tell him is Sister Theresa would tell me how smart and snarky you are, and how you tried to run away before I was born, but you got caught."

Alice shook her head, "Woodhouse kept me locked in solitary for two weeks after that."

He nodded. That was one of his favourite -his only favourite, really- bedtime stories. Sister Theresa always had a soft spot for Alice, whether it was the fire in her heart that was dampened but never snuffed out over her five months locked away from the world, or her near constant pranks on Sister Woodhouse. Unlike the other nuns who saw Alice's attempted escape as an act of rebellion, she knew the idea of parting with her son against her will was unbearable.

"Damn. That's how long I got for hitting Father Chester with a spitwad."

Alice's head whipped around, blinking at him in surprise. "You hit a priest with a spitwad."

"He was cruel, and a big fan of corporal punishment." Charles' answer was firm. There were many things he felt guilty for, but getting back at Father Chester would never be one of them.

"That's not what she meant." FP glanced at Alice, a smirk creeping onto his face, "He really is your kid, huh?"

Jughead frowned, “What does  _ that _ mean?”

FP’s smirk deepened, “Alice Smith, reigning spitwad queen of Riverdale high.”

Alice curtsied, and the women chuckled.

“Didn't you ricochet one off your locker, and hit Penelope in the forehead?” Sierra’s brows knit.

“I forgot about that.” Alice fought back a chuckle, as she turned her attention to Charles, “I nailed Woodhouse dead in the middle of her horrible little bun every day for three weeks, and never got caught.”

“ _ Mom! _ ” Betty’s jaw dropped, “That's awful.”

“Is it? You've met that she-devil.”

Archie nodded, “She did help Mrs. Blossom try to kill us.”

FP, Alice, and Sierra frowned deeply. They’d been given some inkling of what their former classmate had put the children through; lord knows Nana Rose, while senile on her good days, was more gossipy than a country club valet. But the casual way they brought it up every once in a while was more than a little disconcerting.

Thankfully Jellybean waved the comment off. “You have much knowledge. Please teach me your ways!”

That idea alone had Jughead exchanging a worried look with his dad. Jellybean didn't need any more 'knowledge'; she was dangerous enough.

Alice quirked an eyebrow at the girl, “Hollow out a pen. Not only is it very effective, but also much less likely to get caught.”

“Al!” FP can't help but laugh.

“YOU let her keep the slingshot!” Alice put her hands on her hips, “At least mine doubles as a writing utensil.”

Betty rolled her eyes, “As fun as this whole  _ conversation _ is, can we let the  _ traitor _ continue?”

A pained look passed over Charles' face, “Traitor? Really, Betty?”

“Guilty until proven innocent.” She crossed her arms, quirking an eyebrow in an unbelievably Alice-like fashion, “Keep talking.”

Charles sighed, sliding down into a chair just as Mary slipped back into the kitchen. 

It had been a surprisingly fruitful conversation with her ex. After they checked the mandatory small talk boxes -personal health, weather in Riverdale versus Quantico, their individual children, and a rather awkward exchange about marital status that involved Mary rushing through an explanation of her new romantic relationship with a woman-, they’d gotten down to business. Chris didn’t know Charles specifically, but he knew the young man’s unit chief quite well, and the case. Chris had been more than happy to give her the run-down on Charles’ extensive reports, as well as performance notes from a few other agents. Outside of one pointed comment that clearly outlined ‘ _ Agent Smith, while quick on his feet, has difficulty deceiving those he is closest to’ _ , it seemed like Charles was telling the truth.

If anything, that one comment put Mary more at ease.

Mary locked eyes with Alice, and nodded. The minute confirmation was enough, calming the blonde just enough in order to release the death grip she had on FP's hand. He flexed his hand once , shunting blood back into his fingers, before he ran his hand up her thigh.

Charles sighed deeply, “Chic was still incredibly suspicious, so I told him about the time I came to visit Alice.”

“Wait.” Betty’s ponytail whipped around as she turned to face her mother, “That was true? Mom slammed the door in your face?”

“No!” Charles’ face softened as Betty and Jughead let out twin sighs of relief, “God no. I embellished, and gave him an unseen target for his rage: I was snooping through his shit because Mommy Dearest rejected me. He completely bought it.”

That was Chic's downfall. He always believed he was the smartest man in the room; whether it involved playing the victim after he committed heinous acts, gaslighting everyone around him, or setting up dangerous situations to throw the blame elsewhere, he always loved to win. And moreover, he always expected to win. Revenge was an easy motivator, the only motivator he cared about. Listening to Charles' lies, about thoughtless abandonment and then abrasive dismissal, it was a shining light he'd always hoped to find reflected back at him. Chic built an attraction, their entire relationship even, on the perception of revenge, masterminding a cruel and calculated manipulation of a woman he never expected to meet. It fueled him, and from the fire came more than one passionate embrace.

“That was the game changer. Chic got cocky, assuming he'd unlocked my tragic backstory, and that he and I were equally twisted.” Charles’ eyes turned downcast, “He pursued me romantically, and I did my job. For two months, dating Chic gave me unfettered access to everything; more information than the FBI could've dreamed of.”

“What happened after two months?” Jughead leaned his elbows on the table with interest, “We talked to your neighbour across the hall. She mentioned an argument, and then you disappeared.”

“Rookie mistake on my part. I said something -I can't even remember what it was anymore- about Darcy DeLuca's operation, something ‘Charles the homeless druggie’ never should have known. And Chic's suspicion grew again.”

Charles pinched the bridge of his nose. He had been so careful up until that point; never speaking a word without thinking and overthinking every syllable. But he’d still been a rookie, and let confidence turn to cockiness, and his mouth got away from him. 

“I left to meet my handler, and Chic…” He shook his head. “He followed. I don't know if he recognized the other agent, or maybe he just thought I was cutting him out of a deal, but I was burned.”

Jellybean gasped despite herself. Betty blindly reached over, and held her hand.

There was deep-rooted guilt, with a healthy and regular dose of self-flagellation written across Charles’ face, “I walked back into the apartment, and he was volleying accusations around. Chic has this unstable rage; not  _ just  _ loud, or  _ just _ violent, but a bit of everything. There was really no other way out of the situation, so when he came at me, I paged my handler, and kept doing my job. I let him beat me, and only fought back enough to make sure he didn't actually kill me, then made it seem like he'd won.”

“That, I believe. You've got, what, fifty pounds on him?” Everyone glanced at FP, “There's no way that scrawny asshole could really win in a fight against you. Not with the punches you're packing.”

Despite the tension in the room, everyone found themselves laughing.

“Normally yes, but like I said, unstable rage. After I was down, he wrapped me up in a rug, dragged me downstairs, and tossed what he assumed to be my dead body into the dumpster.” Charles quirked a smile that was all FP, “It took Agent Donovan three hours to confirm the coast was clear, and come get me.”

Veronica scrunched up her nose, “That’s disgusting.”

“You have no idea.” Charles shuddered at the memory, “I took two showers a day for a couple weeks just to get the smell off of me.”

“Heh.” An impish grin stretched across Jellybean’s face, “I'm calling you 'garbage man' from now on.”

There was a warmth that poured over him at his baby sister’s words.

“I'm okay with that.”

“None of this explains your jail visitations.” Jughead was always ready to splash that frigid glass of reality.

Charles sighed deeply. If anyone was going to need complete and thorough convincing, it would be Jughead and Betty. They were natural born investigators, and growing up in Riverdale and being betrayed time and again had built up a palpable suspicion.

But Charles was committed to regaining his family's trust.

“I was getting to that. After the four of you took your little run through the Blossom forest, the FBI took over the arrest. And while I was sitting by the phone waiting for word on Alice, one of the other agents crab walked Chic -and Sister Woodhouse- right by me.”

“They didn't.” Mary’s eyes widened in disbelief.

That was the nightmare situation for law enforcement, especially those who worked undercover. Not only was it dangerous for the agent, and their investigation, but it became a legal disaster waiting to happen. Defense and prosecution attorneys alike knew one carefully crafted lawsuit from the alleged criminals could destroy years of work in a matter of seconds.

“I was in full windbreaker city, badge around my neck; I looked like the poster boy for the FBI…” Charles shook his head, “It was a shitshow. Chic went berserk. He bit one of my agents, donkey-kicked another one. We actually had to sedate him before we could transport him to prison.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right.” Betty said sardonically.

Watching that shift, Chic breaking out of his mask and turning into the violent man he truly was, that would be ingrained in Betty's mind for as long as she lived.

“Agents interrogated him for six days before he even once opened his mouth. He claimed he only wanted to speak to me.” Nightmare scenario: take two, in less than a week, “Normally, the FBI doesn’t negotiate with murderers, but he claimed to have vital information on Hiram Lodge and Gladys Jones. So I met with him.”

“That's very brave of you.” Veronica seemed to anticipate Charles' reply, “Even if it's your job, confronting someone from your past is brave.”

Charles gave her the smallest smile of gratitude.

“At first he tried to weasel information out of me; fill in any lies or gaps he still had after he 'killed' me. I was going to write him off entirely, when he offered a trade: a higher level drug dealer's location in exchange for a project from him.”

He sighed.

“As per usual, Chic's information was more than solid, so Agent Michaels authorized our little game of give and take. And Chic, of course reminded me if I went back on my word, he had info to bring down the whole family.” The whole Cooper-Jones clan shared serious looks, and Mary and Sierra both silently pretended they didn't notice, “But by that point, I'd met all of you, and was getting to know you all -hell, I already had a relationship with Alice-, so every move he made, every move I was told to make for him, I made sure nothing would come back on the family.”

Charles crossed his arms, patiently waiting for the room to take in what they've heard.

“It's a nice story.” FP did his best to look past his son he had grown to love, and to the man who had been caught in a rather serious lie, “But how do we know you're not working with Chic to hurt us?”

“I  _ wouldn't _ , FP. You're my family.”

Betty’s tone was morose, “Family can still betray each other.”

There was not a single person in that room who didn't have firsthand knowledge of the truth of that statement.

“You have no reason to trust me, and I get that. Chic asked if what we'd had was real; and there were small moments here and there when I let it be.” Charles’ voice dropped to just above a whisper, “But he always had an agenda, right from the beginning, and that was to hurt as many people as he possibly could without any kind of remorse. I couldn't love or  _ be in love _ with a man like that, even if I wanted to.”

“But the prison guards still heard you say you loved him.” Archie’s words were surprisingly firm.

“I did say that. But I lied.” Charles seemed resolute in his words, “If I want to reach my end goal, the best way is through him.”

Everyone sat with that, carefully going through Charles’ words, and body language with careful concern. It was tiring, weighing the actions they’d seen from the man they cared for with the hidden ones they’d uncovered. There was a tumultuous tug-of-war between the head and the heart; one side taking stock of the credibility of his words and the affection surrounding his person, and the other recognizing he was a trained deceiver, and the family had been betrayed by a long lost ‘son’ once before.

It was such a complicated situation.

“Can  _ someone _ say something? I’m more than willing to work at regaining your trust, but at the very least tell me what you’re thinking.”

On instinct, Charles turned his focus to Alice. He’s had the most time with her, through their work together taking down the Farm. And she was his mother. They may be new to each other’s lives, but the love and the bond which they shared was unwavering.

“I cannot be impartial.” Alice shut her eyes tightly, “Charles, you are my son, and I love you. Even if you are working with Chic, I don’t think I could bear to lose you again.”

Betty could see how close her mom was to breaking down. Their problems were many, but mother and daughter would never stop protecting each other. And watching the open vulnerability -something Northsider Alice had spent the better part of two decades beating down, and hiding- coming off her mom in waves, drove Betty across the room to wrap her arms around her.

“You should've come to us.” FP forced himself to keep his voice even, “As a family, we are better at solving problems with all the information.”

Jughead nodded in agreement, “I second that.”

Betty adjusted her chin as it rested on her mom's shoulder, “I'm still suspicious.”

Charles gave her a small smile, “I'll fix that, I promise.”

“You'd better.” Veronica crossed her arms, “Anyone who hurts the Smith women -Jellybean included- has to answer to me.”

Jellybean couldn’t help but preen at the idea of being a Smith woman.

“And me.” Archie matched Veronica’s stance.

“Us too.”

Sierra smirked at Mary, before adding, “And you know Miss Surprisingly-Well-Connected means it.”

It might have been Sierra's comment, or the way Mary did a cocky little shoulder shimmy in response, but they got a chuckle out of Alice, and both lawyers shared a grin.

Despite the warmth building in the room, Jellybean found herself chewing her lower lip, “Something doesn’t make sense to me.”

“You mean my using Chic while he's rotting in prison?” Charles started rummaging around in the boxes again, “I talked with my supervisor and the Director. They both agreed to my course of action before I even entered the prison-“

At that, Jellybean rolled her eyes.

“No, not that. What DID happen when you first met Alice?”

* * *

_ Charles had been seventeen years old when he first went to find his birth mother. _

_ He was smart; he put on his best outfit, took a bible and a clipboard from the Sisters, and snuck out through the tunnel, making his way to the faded Elm street address he’d found in his file. _

_ Charles had arrived amidst a chaotic morning. Seven year old Betty had had the flu for the better part of the week; throwing up, with a fever -high, but not dangerously so- left the little girl screaming in discomfort, and clinging tightly to her mom. As the week dragged on, Betty’s flu passed to Alice, leaving both mother and daughter sick as dogs. But Hal had gone to a journalism conference, so it was up to Alice to do everything on her own. She was far too sick to leave the house, much less drive, so she'd asked Fred to take Polly to school. Normally, that would have been fine, except Polly was angry and jealous that BETTY got to stay home, while SHE didn't. The fact that Betty had a fever, and had been crying nonstop was apparently irrelevant. So every day for the week, Alice had to drag herself out of bed, get Polly up, pray her nine year old got herself dressed and ready for school as she got Betty into a lukewarm shower.  _

_ On that fateful morning, Alice’s patience had been shattered by 7am, as Polly had fought her on everything from getting out of bed, to showering, to eating, and heading over to the Andrews’. The shouting match was only made worse as Betty wept in her arms, and she fought off a migraine along with her overall shitty feeling. In the middle of a rather crass response from Polly, they were interrupted by a sharp knock at the front door. _

_ Alice opened the door in a bit of a whirlwind, going between a combination of yelling and begging Polly to get her ass next door, while trying to soothe Betty before she even managed a glance at the person on her stoop. _

_ She was more than a little surprised; the boy was obviously a teenager, one who made an effort to be well dressed, with a barely hidden nervousness under the surface. What caught her attention were his eyes; so wide, and blue, and familiar. _

_ “Can I help you?” _

_ The boy glanced down at the clipboard, then back up at her. Alice could see very plainly there was a heavy turmoil playing inside of him, so she did her best to wait, one eye on the strange boy at her stoop, and the other on her bratty daughter. _

_ He chewed the inside of his cheek, and for some reason, Alice found herself thinking about FP Jones. “Are you Alice Smith?” _

_ “Alice Cooper, now.” _

_ “Right. My name is…” Charles ducked his gaze, before straightening up to look her in the eye, “ _ Avery _ , and I was sent here today by the Sisters of Quiet Mercy-...” _

_ He watched Alice stiffen, tears welling up in her eyes as he said his name. Avery was the middle name she gave her son when he was born. She felt her mind take that dark, heartbreaking turn. _

_ Before he could continue, Polly went storming by. “You’re the worst!” _

_ “Polly, please.” Alice let out a forlorn sigh, “You have to go to school.” _

_ “I don’t  _ have _ to do anything you say!” Nine years old or not, she stamped her foot in a way reminiscent of her terrible twos, “I want Daddy!” _

_ Alice raised her voice, just a bit, “Your father isn’t here right now; I am.” _

_ “Well, I HATE you!” _

_ Charles watched Alice carefully, watched her face grow sad and exhausted, as she held her younger daughter just a bit tighter to her. All Charles wanted to do was hug her; it looked like she could use it. _

_ It was only then that Polly noticed the teenager at the door. “What are YOU looking at?!” _

_ “Margaret Cooper, you do NOT treat other people like that!” _

_ Polly stormed off, muttering something Charles could not quite hear. But Betty seemed to, her eyes welling up with big fat tears, and whimpering into her mom's chest. _

_ It was then that Alice’s focus returned to the boy at the door. _

_ “I'm sorry. She's nine, and decided to give teen angst a go a few years early.” She blindly walked over to her purse, opening it, and pulling out her cheque book, “Is $200 okay?” _

__

_ Charles was stunned, watching his mom write a cheque, and hand it over to him. _

_ “That's incredibly generous, Mo- _ ma'am _.” _

_ They could hear Polly stomping around, slamming things in what Charles assumed to be the kitchen. _

_ “You'll have to excuse me, I'm in a bit of a crisis here.” Her voice crept towards pinched and tense. _

_ “Of course.” _

_ A little dejectedly, Charles turned, making his way back down the front walk. _

_ She didn’t know what compelled her to speak; not with Polly’s wrath, Betty’s sobs, and a migraine rattling through her skull. But Alice found herself raising her voice, in order to regain the teenager’s attention. _

_ “How old are you?”  _

_ Charles turned back, looking up at her hopefully, “Seventeen.” _

_ He thought he could see her heart break with just one word. Maybe she recognized him. Or maybe she didn’t, but she let herself hope. Charles knew his confidence was depleted, but he still let himself believe there might be a chance for them to know each other one day. _

_ The teenager made the choice to lighten the mood. _

_ “Why? How old are you?” Charles found himself grinning when she chuckled. _

_ “Thirty-three.” Alice nodded once, “Seventeen's a good age. Take care of yourself out here, Avery.” _

_ He smiled brightly, “You too, Mrs. Cooper.” _

_ She opened her mouth once more, only to be cut off as Polly shouldered past her. _

_ “Polly, keep it up, and you'll be grounded through Tracy's party next month!” _

_ Polly's scowl deepens, not even turning to acknowledge her mom as she stormed her way next door. _

_ Alice pinched the bridge of her nose, counting to ten to keep her anger in check. By the time she looked up again, Polly was in the car, and the boy was gone. _

* * *

“Charles, I'm sorry I didn't-...”

He cut her off with a gentle smile, “I was sad I couldn't talk to you, but I was -I  _ am _ \- okay.”

Even at seventeen, he knew that she seemed to want to keep talking, and almost seemed to recognize him. And really, all he wanted was to look at his mom, just once, and know that she was okay. And it seemed like she was.

“I thought it was wishful thinking.” Alice wrapped her arms around herself, “I was always thinking of you, and then I saw a teenaged boy who reminded me so much of the one I lost…”

If she could go back in time, Alice would have asked the question. Or asked him to stay. Or even tried to check up on him after his supposed adoption. Just something, anything, more than she did.

“You know, I kept it.” Charles chuckled at the mix of curious looks he got, reaching into his pocket to pull out his wallet. He rifled through it for a second, then pulled something out, and handed it to Alice.

She gasped, her eyes flicking back up at Charles, before staring in awe at her hands. There it was, the cheque she’d written almost ten years ago.

“You kept the cheque.” Alice’s voice was just above a whisper.

He beamed at her, “Of course I did.”

Alice had lost her battle with tears when he started his story, wrapping her arms around herself to keep from reaching out for her son while everyone was still so suspicious of him. But seeing the cheque, one he had cared for over the last decade, had Alice reaching out, and pulling him into a hug.

Jughead quietly took it out of her hand, curiosity overtaking reason, and passed it around the room.

“Wow, you laminated it?” Jughead chuckled, “You nerd.”

“Shut up.” Charles unwrapped one arm from around his mom’s waist, and flicked Jughead on the ear, “I was never going to cash it, and I didn't want her writing to fade.”

“ _ My god _ , you are just like Mom.”

Alice had always been a “preserve sentimental items, or write names, dates, and event details on the back of pictures” type of woman. Betty had found it cool when she was little, being able to look through pictures from before she was born, and learn the history of everyone involved just by turning it over. But as her Stepford Mom ways set in after Polly started dating Jason, Betty found her mom’s tendencies to be more annoying than anything else.

It was sort of sweet to see that she’d passed it on to  _ one _ of her kids, though.

“Oh hush.” It took all of Alice’s willpower to step away from Charles, and walk back over to FP.

Charles stole his cheque back from Archie, gently placing it in his wallet. Betty and Jughead shook their heads in amusement; he really was just like Alice.

“Why did you choose the name Avery of all things?” Mary couldn’t help but ask.

“That's the middle name Alice gave me.” Charles replied, “My full name is Charles Avery Smith.”

“Wh-...” FP felt the air leave the room. He'd assumed it to be a coincidence; a name Charles had heard, or one he chose at random. But to hear him say his full name, had him turning to stare at Alice, “For real?”

Alice’s eyes turn downcast, “I wanted him to have something from both of us.”

They could feel the kids watching them. They knew, generally, that Alice and FP had a life, one that was well and truly intertwined before them. Every so often, their parents would share a look, or make a statement that really drove home how deep their intimacy with each other was rooted.

“I always wanted to name a kid Avery; we talked about it a couple of times when we were together in high school.” There was an amorous tone in FP’s voice, “It was my mom's maiden name.”

“He's a lot like Clara.” Alice tilted her head in Charles' direction.

“He’s a lot like you AND Mom.”

“I think there's a little bit of you in there.” Alice winked at him, “But just a bit.”

She leaned forward, resting her forehead against his.

“You knew Grandma, Alice?”

Alice nodding at Jughead.

“She was the most wonderful woman I've ever known.” She ran her hands through FP’s hair, “Damn good cook, too.”

FP groans, his mind wandering back to his young life. “Damn, I miss her cooking.”

Alice nodded, “Weekly cookouts at the trailer park?”

Both husband and wife continued, “Her rib rub.”

“Are you  _ trying _ to make a room full of Joneses hungry?” Jellybean grumbled.

Alice could barely hide a smirk, “Sorry.”

“Do you have any pictures of her, Dad?” Jughead asked.

“Just the one.” In a perfect mirror of Charles’ earlier actions, FP pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. He pulled a picture out, and handed it off to Jughead, “After she died, your Grandfather got plastered, and threw a lot of photo albums in a fire. This was the only picture he didn’t get to.”

“I’m sorry, Dad.”

FP nodded in acknowledgement. That was the beginning of the end of FP’s relationship with Senior. FP had felt betrayal amidst his grief, unable to comprehend Senior’s complete disregard of his son’s feelings. And then he kept drinking, and drinking, and taking his anger and grief out on FP in the most violent of ways. There was no going back from that.

“Wait.” Alice's eyes widened in realization, “I think I have a few.”

“What?”

“Pass me a chair.” Alice gestures to the kids.

Charles stood immediately, handing his chair over before leaning back against the wall.

FP blinked at his new wife, “Alice, are you serious?”

“I used to hide things from Hal -old pictures, or Southside mementos- in places I knew he’d never look.” She dragged the chair over to the far side of the sink, then climbed up, “The kitchen cupboard was for smaller things, and the laundry room was for anything more substantial, and both were places he would never bother to go into.”

It turned out, the entirety of their relationship consisted of hiding things from each other. While she hid her emotions, and anything she kept from her Serpent days, Hal, of course, hid his murderous tendencies. 

No one was more surprised than Alice when she turned out to be the more stable and sane one in the wake of that relationship.

She reached back, blindly feeling around until her hands curled around her well-hidden shoebox, “Found it!”

Alice stepped down off the chair, already rummaging through the items before she even made it to the table. FP stepped up behind her, as everyone leaned in. The whole room was almost unsurprised to find the most tidy secret box of keepsakes, sectioned off, with labeled index cards at the start of each section.

Betty gaped in disbelief, “Alphabetized shoebox of crap. That’s a new level of anal, even for you, Mom.”

“I like to be organized, Elizabeth.” Alice flipped through each section carefully, “Betty… Charles… Clara! Here.”

As she reached for the pictures in Clara’s section, both Betty and Charles dove in for the ones in their own. Alice handed FP the photos in her hand.

“The rest of you don’t want to look at yours?” Alice rolled her lips back behind her teeth.

Jellybean’s brow knit, “Huh?”

“I have a section in here for each of you… Except you, Veronica. But you are more than welcome to look at your mother’s.” Alice found herself swarmed in a second, as everyone searched for their own names, “Just please keep them in some semblance of order? I don’t want to have to redo this.”

Everyone chuckled, flipping through their individual sets of pictures with an excess of care, much to Alice’s amusement.

“It's not much; A few of Jug, JB, and Archie's birthdays, a bunch of ridiculous ones from the Midnight Club, Mary and I while more than a little inebriated at the neighbourhood barbeques…” The older blonde pointed at Sierra, “And I think our semester away together?”

The former mayor grinned, “So  _ you _ have the Guelph pictures, huh?”

“Of course.” Alice smirked.

Jellybean narrowed her eyes suspiciously, “What the hell is a ‘Guelph’?”

“Guelph is a small town in Ontario, Canada that has a great university.” Sierra pursed her lips, “We both did visiting student courses there during the same year.”

At their shared wistful expression, Mary leaned around, looking pointedly at Sierra, then turning back to Alice with a quirked eyebrow. They both ignored her for the moment.

“I was so grateful to see a familiar face in the Bullring.” Alice cleared her throat.

It was Archie’s turn to narrow his eyes, “‘Bullring’?”

“The Bullring was a hang out spot, I guess.” There was something wistful in her tone, as the journalist got lost in her memories, “Really great food.”

“Agreed.” Sierra smirked, “Maybe we should take a trip back.”

“Ooo.  _ Thursgays _ reunion, maybe?” She waggled her eyebrows at Sierra.

“Not to continue the echo in this room but, “thursgays”?” FP only just fought off an unsurprised chuckle.

He and Alice continued their tradition of having a whole conversation with their eyes, ending only as Sierra got tired of their lovey-doves nonsense, “Thursday nights at The Albion were, let's go with, queer friendly.”

All the kids hooted and hollered, Jughead even going so far as to wolf whistle.

Charles grinned, “Sounds like my kind of party!”

“Yes!” Mary bumped shoulders with Sierra, “That is a reunion trip I want to be on.”

“Bet you do.” Alice coughed to hide her comment.

Sierra couldn’t help but join in the teasing, “Maybe you can invite Brooke along.”

Sierra and Alice shared a look of amusement.

Mary groaned, “I’m never speaking to either one of you again.”

“Why not?” Archie frowned disappointedly at his mother, “They’re right, you should hang out with Brooke more. She was pretty cool.”

No one had the heart to tell him. Instead Jellybean, Jughead and Veronica pinched the bridges of their noses, Betty, Charles, and FP found themselves staring at the floor, while the moms all pursed their lips.

Archie really could be a bit dense sometimes.

FP took that moment to keep flipping through the pictures of his mother, all duplicates of ones he’d cherished as a child. He reached one in particular, of his mom holding him on her lap when he was about six, both mother and son beaming at each other. FP leaned his chin on Alice’s shoulder, pulling her closer.

“Can I keep this?” FP whispered the question in her ear.

Alice smiled softly, “You can keep every one.”

He kissed her temple, “Thank you.”

It wasn’t just thanks for the photos, but thanks for keeping them in the first place; for loving him and his family even in their distance.

Alice turned her head, and kissed him back.

Jellybean had shuffled around the table, leaning over her eldest brother’s shoulder to look at the pictures he was holding. She was just about ready to grab them out of his hands to look at her own pace, when one picture in particular caught her eye: teenaged Alice, her blonde hair long, curly and wild, and down to her elbows pulling a face at whoever had snapped the photo.

“That’s a lot of hair!”

Alice, Sierra, Mary, and FP chuckled.

“Yeah, my hair was big in the 90s.” Alice pointed back at FP, “Your father, however, has had the same hairstyle since we were five.”

“Hey!” FP reached down, and pinched Alice on the hip, “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”

A smirk set deeply across Sierra’s face, “Hate to be the bearer of bad news, Jones, but it came out of the factory broken.”

No one could hide their laughter if they tried. Jughead reached out, offering Josie’s mom his hand for a high-five.

“I, uhh, didn’t think you had any pictures of your pregnancy with me.” Charles coughed awkwardly.

Alice’s face turned serious. “My roommate, Jemma, was an aspiring photographer. She was only able to sneak a polaroid in, though. So they weren’t the greatest quality.”

Jemma’s pictures still had an incredible personality. There was great depth in her work; an introspection that flowed from picture to picture, from the tiredness behind Alice’s goofy face in her earlier pregnancy, to the haunted despair days before her due date. Polaroid or not, they were surprisingly gorgeous.

“She was a good friend while I was in there. She hated all conflict, but could stand her ground if need be. She stood up for me when Sister Woodhouse wanted to send me away to a damn convent when I pulled a jailbreak.” Her eyes turned downcast, “She also took the only picture of the two of us after you were born.”

Charles flipped through the pictures quickly, until he found it. Amidst the looming shadows of Woodhouse and another vicious-looking woman in the background were Alice and a newborn Charles. She looked so young, and exhausted from a drugless labour: tears drying on her cheeks, her sharp blue eyes locked on her son. And Charles, while still his newborn pink, at a time where he should have been screaming and crying, he laid quiet, staring up at his mom. They were mesmerized, so curious and enamoured with each other, their final moment together forever captured on camera.

“The only thing Mrs. Cooper 'allowed' me to keep from my time at the Sisters was the blanket you'd been wrapped in. And Jemma, hero that she was, hid all the pictures inside, before handing it back to me.” Alice gave a half shrug, “It was easy to hide them after that.”

“And this box of pictures?” Veronica asked.

“Started our first year in this house. I was heavily pregnant with Polly, and despite that, Hal had offered to host the Cooper family Thanksgiving dinner here, so I spent most of my time cleaning the house, and cooking for the whole clan.” Alice’s expression soured, “At one point, Hal noticed all the pictures of my pregnancy in the family photo album, and he insisted I get rid of them. I panicked; I gathered them all up, and threw them in a shoebox, then threw the shoebox in the laundry room until the Coopers left.” 

Betty eyed her mother suspiciously, “I can't understand why Dad would want them gone.”

“I was essentially a walking Southside incubator.” She crossed her arms over her stomach, “Pictures of me without a Cooper were a waste of space in family albums, because none of the Coopers -Hal included- considered me to be good enough to be part of the family.”

Sierra rolled her eyes, “Of course not; unlike the rest of the Blossom-Coopers, you weren't married to your own blood relative.”

FP snorted, while all the teenagers gagged.

“ _ Thanks _ for that reminder.” Betty’s voice was dripping in sarcasm.

“That doesn't make any sense. You were still pregnant; carrying on the Cooper line.”

Mary vaguely remembered the early days of being Alice and Hal's neighbour. She and Fred had moved in partway through the renovations, with nothing but a bed, a table and a couch to their name. At the time, Alice had been nice enough to cook for them every so often, while Hal -who Mary had known better, being one year behind her in school rather than two years, like the whole of the Midnight Club- barely put in the effort. Mary could almost picture Alice, despite glowing with pregnancy, hiding herself and her body away with oversized clothes, and large blankets.

If only she'd bothered to investigate further.

“That didn't matter. I still wasn't a "true Cooper", and Hal hated my pregnancies. The only pictures I have from my pregnancy with Polly were taken by other people.” Alice glanced at Betty, “And the only ones with you were really just shots of Polly that I happened to be in.”

“Hal didn't deserve you.” FP wrapped his arms around Alice, pressing a kiss to her temple, “I bet you looked breathtaking while pregnant.”

Alice took a deep breath, fighting to keep a blush from spreading across her chest. That didn’t seem to matter; FP knew her too well, his eyes dipping down to her collar in amusement, before he tugged her in for a kiss. 

About three seconds in, Betty spoke up, “Don't get any bright ideas, FP.”

“Why not?” Jellybean put her hands on her hips, “I always wanted to be a big sister.”

There was a look Jellybean gave Alice that no one can place; one that held a barely contained intensity, that was careful, and almost shy. Jughead reached across the table to poke her, and the thirteen year old snapped out of it.

“Don't you think we have enough siblings?” Jughead’s tone was teasing.

Jellybean held firm, “I think Dad and Allie would make cute babies.”

“Why, thank you!” Charles gave her a cocky grin.

Jughead, Betty, and Jellybean rolled their eyes at their brother.

“Not you, idiot.  _ Baby _ babies.”

Alice bit the inside of her cheek, “Why are we even talking about this?”

“We are aggressively celebrating your relationship!” Jellybean had a look of devious innocence playing across her features.

Betty grumbled, “I think they celebrated enough for the lot of us.”

“Speaking of!” Charles rocked back on his heels, “Do you have any kind of wedding reception planned?”

FP and Alice glanced at each other, then back to their eldest.

“How did you know?” Jughead sounded impressed.

“Matching rings that weren't there at dinner yesterday, plus they've been attached at the hip.” Charles bit back a smirk, “Doesn't take a genius.”

“You okay with it?” FP forced out an even tone.

“Of course. It means if JB gets her way, I can maintain my position as the token Northern bastard.” His smirk deepened, “Maybe even change my last name to Snow.”

Jellybean rolled her eyes, “You just wanna marry Kit Harrington.”

“Duh.”

Everyone laughed.

“Your last name  _ wouldn't  _ be Snow. You were born to two Southside Serpents.” Alice picked a piece of lint off her shoulder, “The only southern country in Westeros to claim serpents was Dorne, and Dornish bastards were called Sand.”

The other parents more than anyone else shot her a questioning look.

Alice rolled her eyes, “Who do you think writes the book reviews at The Register?”

“You rule with the dual titles of Serpent and spitwad Queen, and you're a nerd?” Veronica leaned her chin on her hand, and sighed wistfully, “You are sensational.”

Betty gritted her teeth, “Would you kindly stop flirting with my  _ Mom _ ?”

“What can I say, like the Jones men, I am not immune to the endless allure of the Smith women.” Veronica fluttered her eyelashes, just to drive the point home.

Sierra shook her head, “You are just like Hermione.”

“ _ Sierra _ !” Alice's voice was stern.

“... Okay, that was NOT the parent I expected you to name.” Veronica looked between both women, “What does that mean?”

Alice seemed genuinely upset, that tinge of protective frustration had bubbled up, and was dancing just below the surface. It was met with Sierra's unwavering sincerity, one that was equal parts sympathetic and full of regret. This was obviously a long-standing sore subject between them, as both women’s emotions pushed against each other, until Alice won out.

“It was just a joke, Veronica.” Sierra cleared her throat, “Don't read anything into it.”

Veronica nodded, silently vowing to ask her mother about it later.

“So I'm clear, are we all just  _ deciding _ to forgive Charles?” Jellybean side eyed her brother once more, “Because I don't want to put extra effort into a grudge if I don't have to.”

Who else the thirteen year old was holding a grudge against, no one knew, and no one necessarily wanted that question answered.

FP clenched his jaw, “We haven’t decided that, JB. Not until we can confirm everything he's said.”

Charles dropped his head in defeat, “What do you want me to do, take a polygraph?”

Every Smith-Jones family member answered at once.

“Polygraphs are inconclusive.”

Sierra groaned, leaning to whisper to Mary, “I don’t know if I want to  _ only _ work with this family, or  _ never _ work with them.”

It was Veronica who answered, “Six of one, half a dozen of the other.”

Both attorneys bit back their laughter.

“Half the Serpents know the thumbtack in your shoe trick.” FP tilted his head towards Alice, “Hell, Al's done it like five times without one.”

“ _ Okay _ , it was twice, and I never actually did what they arrested me for.” Alice bit the inside of her cheek, “I just did  _ other _ things, and I didn't want to incriminate myself.”

That was the last straw.

“List of your crimes. On my desk. First thing tomorrow.” Sierra shot her a stern look, “I refuse to be blindsided in court.”

“Very funny.” Alice rolled her eyes, “All of my crimes were misdemeanors, and can no longer be processed under the statute of limitations.”

Veronica's phone buzzed on the table. She picked it up, and read it mindlessly.

“ _ Circling back around _ .” Betty eyed her mom suspiciously, before turning her attention back to her brother, “Charles is to remain under suspicion until we can confirm his motives.”

“I think I can help with that.” Veronica showed Betty her phone screen, “Mom just texted; she and Daddy are going for a romantic afternoon in Glendale.”

Betty read the text over, “‘Far away from Pop's burgers’, which is apparently a direct quote from Mr. Lodge.”

The girls, and Jughead pushed themselves to stand, grabbing phones, notebooks, and one of Charles' files as they did.

Jughead shook his head in disgust, “Well, that proves it. Only the hideously villainous would speak ill of the  _ Chock'lit Shoppe _ .”

Archie’s brow knit, “Wait, I'm confused.”

“My parents have confirmed they will be indisposed for the next few hours, Archiekins.” Veronica placed a hand on her boyfriend’s shoulder, “That gives us ample opportunity to do some sleuthing of our own. If we can find evidence of continued wrongdoings on the part of my father, that could give some credit to FBI Boy’s story.”

Archie nodded once, and leapt to his feet after them.

Charles frowned, “I don't think that's a good idea.”

“Why, afraid you’ll be caught in another lie?” Betty’s glare was back with a vengeance.

Charles glared back without any of the bite, “ _ No _ , I'm just worried about four teenagers alone in a mob boss's home.”

“It's an hour one way to Glendale.” Jughead reached over, and courteously held Veronica’s jacket open for her, “In the  _ incredibly  _ unlikely event of their return before we can get away, we can pretend we are four teenagers looking for some amorous alone time together.”

They could almost see the lightbulb go off over Archie’s head, “Wouldn't be the first time.”

Alice, FP, Mary and Sierra exchanged looks of discomfort.

“Okay, that's a conversation for another time.” With one last glance at the other parents, Mary nodded, “Go. But keep in touch.”

Jellybean nodded sharply, “We'll keep grilling the suspect.”

The thunderous look she gave Charles was obviously very serious, if more than a bit humourous. The high schoolers nodded, before heading out the door.

* * *

“How can one man who  _ looks _ so put together, have so much junk?!” Betty huffed. 

They'd each taken a section of the study: Veronica was combing through her dad's computer files, Betty was rummaging through his desk drawers, while the boys were pouring over the thick stack of documents in Hiram's safe.

Veronica chanced a glance at Betty, “If it helps at all, it's designer junk. Not one thing in here costs less than $1,000.”

Archie yelped in horror at the thought of being so close to so many expensive items, unintentionally bumping into the table beside him at the mere mention of the price. The table teetered, and a gold vase tipped over the edge. Luckily, Jughead dove, catching it just before it hit the floor.

“I think the underlying message of your girlfriend's statement was  _ don't  _ break anything.” Jughead looked pointedly at his best friend.

Archie hung his head, “Sorry, Ronnie.”

“Just…. Sit still, okay?” Veronica exchanged a glance with Betty, “Snooping is easy, young man, not getting caught is harder.”

As always, her musical joke landed, the four of them chuckling as the real Hamilton lines ran through their minds.

“Are we looking for anything in particular?” Jughead shook his head, “This just looks like an exhaustive list of rum suppliers; not just chains, but individual stores themselves, as well as owner and manager information.”

“Keep looking. If Charles is right, something in here should point to illegal activity.” Betty closed a drawer, and picked the lock on the next one down, “It won't be obvious, so look for gaps in information, or duplicates.”

Jughead adjusted his hat, “And if he was lying to us?”

“Then we wasted an afternoon, and we will have to focus our attention on bringing him down.”

They all tensed up.

“Do you remember when our lives were normal?” Archie frowned.

All three of his best friends responded in unison, “No.”

They paused, only to all dissolve into laughter. Even after being arrested for murder, chased by murderers, nearly organ harvested, and overall regular attacks to their persons since Jason Blossom’s death, none of the friends ever expected their lives to be normal again. The one bright spot of sunshine came in the knowledge that they would always have each other.

“Do you two want to discuss it?” When Betty and Jug looked at her, Veronica clarified, “Your parents' nuptials.”

Jughead groaned, “I cannot fathom processing  _ that _ right now. Get back to me in 3-5 business days.”

“If we're being honest, I just think-“

Betty cut herself off with a gasp.

Archie eyed her, “What is it, Betts?”

She'd been fumbling around with the bottom drawer, mostly out of annoyance, when she felt something click out of place. 

“I think it's…” Betty pushed on the bottom panel, pulling her hand back in surprise as it lifted up, “A secret compartment.”

The boys rushed over to look at the new discovery with the speed that would put Usain Bolt to shame.

“Well, that’s on brand for Daddy.” Veronica rolled her eyes, “A huge fan of secrets and deceit.”

“What’s in it?”

Betty hesitated for just a second, before reaching her hand into the compartment, and pulling out a very thick, leather-bound book.

The foursome glanced at each other, before the blonde carefully opened the cover. The first couple dozen pages were covered in writing, short, blocked characters that were far too stiff and angular to be any of the Lodge women. What first appeared to be illegible, turned out to be quite the opposite; two columns per page, written in a language none of the teenagers recognized. 

“What the hell?” Archie scratched his head.

“It looks like a cipher.” Betty frowned, “Similar to the one the Black Hood used to contact me.”

God, if Hal Cooper hadn’t been rotting in his grave, Veronica, Jughead and Archie would have had half a mind to put him there for what he did to his own daughter.

“If Mr. Lodge took the time to write all this in a cipher, it must be important.” The quarterback looked over to his friends hopefully.

“Well, we can’t take it.” Veronica bit the inside of her cheek, “He would most certainly notice.”

“But… He might not notice a few missing pages.”

Jughead pulled out his switchblade, and flipped to the middle of the written pages. He was quick, grabbing hold of three sheets, and carefully cutting as close to the binding as possible. As soon as the pages were out, he closed the book, and folded the pages into his pocket.

“ _ If _ he notices the pages gone, this should give us enough time to decipher the code, and prove one way or another that Charles is-...”

He was cut off by the study door slamming shut.

“What are you  _ pinches soplónes _ doing in here?!”

They all froze in horror.

“Hermosa-!” Veronica felt her breath get caught in her throat, “What are YOU doing in here-?”

“No.” Hermosa silenced her sister with a hand, “I mean what are you doing here  _ right now _ ?! Papi will be here any second.”

Archie, Betty, and Jughead looked at each other in alarm. Veronica could feel their eyes fall to her, but she didn’t flinch. She stood, walking around to the front of the desk, as the others rushed to replace everything. The boys closed up the desk, while Betty hurried to transfer the last of Hiram’s files onto their USB key. Veronica made a big show of placing a hand on her hip, drawing Hermosa’s eyes back to her as she steeled herself against her sister's glare.

“No, he won't.” The younger Lodge used her other hand to play with the pearls around her neck, “He's taking my mom out to dinner.”

“Yeah. Except Hermione forgot something, so they're turning back around.” There was danger and annoyance swirling in Hermosa’s eyes, “And what's the first thing Papi always does when he gets home?”

Veronica inhaled sharply, “Checks his study.”

Shit. Shit.  _ Shit _ .

“He asked me to meet him here.” She crossed her arms, “But you  _ pendejos _ ? You have about ten seconds to hide.”

Suddenly there’s a flurry of activity; the teenagers dashed around, putting everything back as quickly and effectively as they could. It was only as Archie started to put the documents back in Hiram’s safe that he paused, then grabbed about a dozen or so of the loose papers from the centre of the stack, and put everything back where he found it. Betty ejected the USB key, and helped Veronica realign anything they may have touched during their search.

There was a beep that came from Hermosa’s phone, and the teenagers watched her with wide eyes as she glanced down at the device.

“He’s at the front door. Your time’s up.”

Hermosa stomped over to the far side of the fireplace, looking it over attentively. She was methodical, scanning the shelf until she focused on one book in particular:  _ Crime and Punishment _ by Fyodor Dostoyevsky. The Miami native pulled at the top of the spine sharply, motioning for the kids to make their way over to her as a hidden door popped open.

No one had the time to look impressed, the boys rushing in the moment the door moved, and the girls making their way across the room a second later.

“How did you-?” Betty started. 

“You never noticed the dimensions in this room don’t match the rest of the apartment?” Hermosa’s eyes tracked her little sister as she and her best friend stepped inside the hidden room, “And  _ Crime and Punishment _ is Papi’s favourite.”

The quintet could hear Hiram and Hermione talking as they entered the apartment, and Hermosa didn’t wait a moment longer. She started to close the door, only to be stopped as Veronica planted her foot in the way of the door’s path.

“How do I know you're not screwing us over?” Veronica glared at her older sister.

They’d really had enough of older half sibling betrayals for one day.

Hermosa leaned down, until her eyes were lined directly with her little sister's.

“Listen carefully  _ niñita _ , if I wanted to rat you out, I wouldn't have warned you.” Hermosa kicked Veronica's foot out of the way, “Now keep quiet.”

With that, she slammed the door shut.

**Author's Note:**

> So this started off as a fic idea for something else entirely, and then this chapter came to mind as a oneshot. Now I'm combining both ideas into one long fic.


End file.
